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LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN 



LECTURES 



TO 



YOUNG MEN, 




DELIVERED IN THE 



CHURCH OP THE MESSIAH, 






By WILLIAM G. ELIOT, Jr. 



ST. LOUIS: 

PRINTED AT REPUBLICAN OFFICE. 

1852. 



|~4 C "V& \ 






INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 
2ln Appeal. 



I have written unto you, young men, because ye are strong, 
and the word of God abideth in you, and ye have overcome the 
Wicked one. Love not the world, neither the things tliat are in 
the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father 
is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh 
and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the 
Father but is of the world . And the world passeth awaj- and tho 
lu3t thereof, but he that doeth the will of God abideth forever.— 
1 John 2: 13—15. 

I propose, as already announced, to give several 
discourses to young men, addressed to them as a distinct 
class in the community and as individuals. For such 
an undertaking we have the authority and example of 
an Apostle, who, in the words of my text, addresses his 
exhortations to young men, with a degree of solemnity 
that shows the importance attached to this part of his 
preaching. He repeats the same words twice, and with 
increasing emphasis : "I write unto you, young men, 
because ye have overcome the wicked one;" and again, 
" I have written unto you, young men, because ye are 
strong and the word of God abideth in you, and ye have 
overcome the wicked one." 



AN APPEAL. 



This apostolical example we would follow ; this scrip- 
tural authority we would use. I desire to address the 
young men of this society, and all those who are wil- 
ling to hear me, in the words of soberness and truth. 
Under different circumstances and with a feebkr 
tongue ; but with a purpose I trust equally true, and 
with a work to be accomplished, not less important 
than that, which the Apostles themselves were sent to 
accomplish. For their work was to speak in Christ's 
stead, persuading men to be reconciled to God ; and 
the same work is committed to every minister of 
Christ, at the present day. They may do*" it badly; 
they may work as hirelings, and not as faithful shep- 
herds ; but their work, whether done or neglected, is 
the same. 

The circumstances, however, under which the Apos- 
tle spoke are very different from our own. He ad- 
dressed those only who were members of the Church of 
Christ, who had already made a good profession, and 
proved their sincerity by lives of obedience. For he 
says, '»I have written unto you, young men, because ye 
are strong"; that is, strong in the Lord and in the pow- 
er of his might, "and the word of God abideth in you, 
and ye have overcome the wicked one.'"' In that day, 
there were very few nominal Christians. Those who 
bore the name of Christ, were also compelled to bear 
his cross. They who came to hear Christian preach- 
ing carried their lives in their hands, and the young 
men of a Christian society were an army of self-devoted 
followers of Him, under whose standard they were en- 
listed. I wish that it were so now. The outward dan- 
ger is past, but I wish that the self-devotion could con- 
tinue. 



AN APPEAL. 



Unhappily for the Christian cause, it is not so. Of 
all the young men in this city, who were educated by 
christian parents, and who in common language would 
call themselves Christians, not one-tenth have a fall 
right to that name ; not one-tenth have so much as 
professed their faith in Christ. How small a number 
can be said to have a well founded hope in him ! In 
this society, there are probably two or three hundred 
young men; I mean that there is at least that number 
who make this their usual place of worship, when they 
attend church at all. How small a part of them take 
their place at the communion table of Christ ; or 
to apply a more general test, how small a part of them 
can be said to have had a personal religious experi- 
ence ! 

The majority of young men are unfixed in their re- 
ligious opinions, irresolute in their religious pur- 
poses, irregular in their religious duties. Many of 
them are unsettled in their principles of conduct and 
have no fixed plan of life. They are floating upon 
the surface of society, carried one way or the other 
by the currents of social influence, by the changing 
wind of good or ill success. They are not strong ; the 
word of God does not yet abide in them; they have not 
overcome the wicked one. They are trusting, it would 
seem, to the natural progress of things for their salva- 
tion, instead of working it out with fear and tremb- 
ling. 

i Young men ; I speak seriously and earnestly, but do 
I not speak truly ? I would not bring an unjust charge, 
but I fear that there is something radically wrong, 
which needs to be corrected. The wrong may be in the 
speaker, more than the hearer; in the minister, more 



6 AN APPEAL. 



than in the people; for surely if religion were presented, 
as it ought to be, in its simplicity and power, there 
would not be so many of the young who turn away 
from it, with indifference or contempt. Our churches 
ought to be filled with young men. Our communion 
table should be crowded with them; our Sunday School; 
our ministry to the poor; our Christian missions, and 
every religious enterprize should be made prosperous by 
their co-operation; and this would be the case, if the 
Gospel of Christ were brought home to their hearts as 
it ought to be. That it is not done, is undoubtedly the 
fault of those to whom the dispensation of the Gospel 
is eommitted. If the truth could be preached as it is in 
Jesus, surely the young would hear it. Would to God, 
that I could now speak so that e\ ery one who hears me 
would feel rebuked for his sinfulness, and go from this 
house with his heart full of that infinite question, 
"What shall I do to be saved ?" 

This is my reason for speaking soplaiily; for in 
plainness of speech is my only hope of success. This 
is the cause of my anxiety; for while there are so many 
young men who show their confidence in me by making 
this the place of their worship, but to whom it is not 
made the savor of life unto life, there is reason to fear 
that my own duty is but imperfectly performed. 

Do not understand me, however, as saying, or think- 
ing that the salvation of my hearers depends upon me. 
I abhor that arrogance of the priestly office, by which 
such claims are made, as though the Minister, the ser- 
vant of Christ, were the mediator between God and 
man. Nor can we excuse the worldly-minded and in- 
different, as though they could plead, before the bar of 
God, ihe dullness or inefficiency of their religious 



AN APPEAL. 



teachers, in palliation of their sins. No: your souls 
are, under God, in your own keeping. With the Bible 
in your hands, you have no sufficient excuse for igno- 
rance, nor worldliness, nor sin. With God's instruc- 
tors all around you, and in your own hearts, you can 
not plead the want of faithful teachers. With a moth- 
er's blessing resting upon your head, and the recollec- 
tions of a mother's words rising unbidden in your 
hearts, you cannot plead the want of motive to lead a 
pure and religious life. 

The ultimate responsibility, therefore, must rest 
with yourselves, even with each one of you. Never- 
theless, when we look around upon the multitude of 
young men with whom this city is filled, and the evil 
influences to which they are exposed ; when we see 
how large a part of them are walking in the broad but 
dangerous road that leads to destruction, and how few, 
comparatively, are even seeking for the way of eter- 
-nal life, we cannot help feeling that every one who 
occupies a Christian pulpit has a duty to fulfil towards 
them, which has not yet been perfectly accomplished. 

It would be unjust to say that the young men of St. 
Louis, compared with those of other cities, are below 
the general standard. I have no sufficient means for 
making such a comparison, but think that if it were 
fairly made, the judgment would not be against us. 
The average degree of morality and of respect for re- 
ligion is perhaps as high here as elsewhere. When all 
the circumstances are considered, it is higher than 
could heve been reasonably expected ; but no one will 
deny that there is great room for improvement. The 
standard even of common morality among our young men 
is not so high as it ought to be, and religion is too little 



AN APPEAL. 



regarded. We need some new element at work among 
them ; we need some stronger influence to counteract 
the worldly and irreligious influences by which they 
are surrounded. 

Look at their numbers. A grey-haired man is but 
now and then seen among us. See how early they en- 
ter upon the active duties of life. At the age of fif- 
teen or sixteen, they are found in their places of busi- 
ness doing their part, and before ten years are past, 
they have become the merchants and enterprising men 
of the city. Take away from our city the young men, 
and how little would be left of all its present vigor and 
enterprise ! There is no city of the world, probably, 
in which young men occupy a more important position ; 
none in which a greater responsibility, for good or evil, 
rests upon them. Do they feel this as they ought ? 
Do they understand the greatness of their work, and 
the importance of doing it well and quickly ? 

It is perceived in part, but not as it ought to be. 
There are some who feel it, but there are still more 
who think only of the fortune they have come to seek, 
and of the pleasures they pursue. The cause of reli- 
gion and of morality, the moral interests of society, the 
progress of truth and goodness give them no concern. 
If they can obtain the means of living, and have 
enough to spare for their amusements, their work is 
accomplished ; and in the choice of their amusements, 
they are guided not by their sense of what is right and 
wrong, but by considerations of convenience and of 
custom. What others do, they will do ; where others 
go, they will go. The degree of decency, or of re- 
spectability, required by the circle in which they 
move, they will try to attain, and if they do not sink 



AN APPEAL. 



much below it, they are content. Thus evil customs 
prevail more and more ; thus the tendency with so 
many is continually downwards. Thus it happens, 
that hundreds of those who come here with gene- 
ral intentions of living a good life, breathe an impure 
atmosphere and become morally tainted from the very 
first. Thus it is, that so many run a rapid career, 
through frivolity and self-indulgence and sin, ending 
in contempt and ruin. 

Go through our city from one end to the other, 
through its principal streets and suburbs, on the week 
day and on the Sabbath. We do not ask you to look 
upon the low haunts of vice, the dens of vile ini- 
quity, whose secrets you may not even think upon with- 
out the stain of impurity ; but look at the more re- 
spectable places of resort, where the cup of pleasure is 
made to sparkle, and the appliances of luxury are used 
to introduce the appliances of vice. Look in, — you 
need not enter, — look in upon the splendid rooms ap- 
propriated exclusively to tippling and games of chance. 
Consider what enormous profits must accrue from such 
establishments, and ask yourselves by whom they are 
chiefly supported. I would speak diffidently upon sub- 
jects on which I am unavoidably to a great extent ig- 
norant. We know that those doors are darkened, too 
often, by the forms of men, whose proper place is with 
their wives and their children, and even with their 
children's children, at their own homes. A heavy guilt 
do they incur, who with the soberness of years resting 
upon them, and the serious duties of mature life to dis- 
charge, yet give their countenance to the dram-shop, — 
for that is its name be it ever so splendid, — and their 



10 AN APPEAL. 



influence to the cause of dissipation and sin. But their 
number I would fain believe is small. 

If I may trust my own observation and what is told 
me by others, the chief responsibility for the growth of 
intemperance and other forms of vice among us, rests 
upon the young themselves; upon young men, who are 
betrayed into habits which at first seem only foolish, 
but which by rapid growth become sinful, because they 
think that youth will excuse them, and that while 
young they have a right to do as they please. Begin- 
ning with occasional indulgence, feeling that they are 
unobserved, or that what they do is of no importance 
one way or the other, they gradually form habits, 
which place them among the opponents of virtue and 
the devotees of sin. Sometimes they stop before it is 
too late, and with saddened hearts begin a life of sobrie- 
ty and usefulness. But even then, ought they not to 
consider that they have been doing an incalculable 
harm to the cause of sound morality and religion; that 
they have been lending their influence to the support 
of institutions which are the curse of our community? 

This is the first ground on which 1 would appeal to 
the young men of St. Loais; namely, on the ground of 
their social importance as a class, and their individual 
influence as members of that class. 

In other cities, the young man may plead his insig- 
nificance as an excuse for self indulgence, in those things 
which offer a bad example to others. He may say that 
the institutions of society are so fixed, that nothing he 
can do will affect them; that the interests of society are 
in the hands of older persons and must be protected by 
them. But here it is not so. Our institutions are not 
fixed; our standard of morality is not established, and 



AN APPEAE. 11 

it is chiefly for the young men of this city to say -what 
it shall hereafter be. Whether they know it or not, 
they are doing a large part in giving direction to pub- 
lic opinion and establishing the standard of public mo- 
rality. Taken together, they are the strength of the 
city; individually, every one of them has a part to per- 
form. 

You may think that this is an exaggerated statement 
but it is not. The character of our young men is now 
and for a long time to come must be the character of 
our city. They must settle the point whether intem- 
perance, dissipation, licentiousness, profanity, gambling 
and the like, shall be the order of the day, or instead 
of them, religion, good order, sobriety, chastity and 
other virtues which belong to the gentleman and Chris- 
tian. It is for them to determine what shall be the 
standard of refinement and education am ng us. 
Whether we shall be a mere money-loving community, 
bujdng and selling to get gain, or a community in 
'which it is necessary for a man to be educated in order 
to be respected, to be refined in order to be tolerated. 
It is for them to say whether literature and the fine 
arts, learning and science, shall take firm root among 
us, or struggle for a feeble existence as they do now. 
Do you say that such things properly devolve upon the 
older and wealthier members of the community? Wc 
answer that for several years past, those of our older 
citizens who have large wealth at their command, have 
been giving evidence of their interest in the welfare 
of our city. Some of them have shown great liberality 
towards our infant institutions of learning and benevo- 
lence, and those who have not yet done so, are probably 
on'y waiting for some opportunity of enlarged action. 



12 AN APPEAL. 



We beg them not to wait until the hour of death. It is 
far better to give than to bequeath; better, both as a ser- 
vice of God and as & benefit to mankind. We would 
also remind you that among the wealthier, there are 
found many who yet belong to the ranks of young 
men, or who are just passing into middle life. It is to 
them that we look, and not in vain, to becorae leaders 
in every good movement, promoters of every good 
cause. That they will respond to the call, we have ev- 
ery reason to believe. The wealth which they are rap- 
idly accumulating in our thriving city, they will gene 
rously use for the city's best advancement. They are 
already doing so, and we trust that it will abound more 
and more. To what nobler use can they devote their 
growing fortunes, than to the furtherance of sound 
knowledge and useful information, in the city where 
they live. Their prosperity will deserve respect, their 
devotion to business will become a Christian calling, if* 
as they advance in the road to wealth, they plant the 
trees of knowledge and of virtue by the way side for 
the benefit of those to come after them. We appeal to 
them, as being at the same time the young men and the 
influential men of our city. Let them deal towards 
this community with a liberal hand and a large heart, 
and they will find therein an exceeding great reward. 
They will find it in well deserved respect; in the feel- 
ing that they labor not for jnoney but for humanity; 
in the consciousness that by their prosperity society is 
blessed. I know that I speak to many such, and that 
my words do not fall upon unwilling ears. We have 
reason to hope that what they have done in time past 
is but the earnest of greater works in the time to come. 
But neither from the older, nor the wealthier classes, 



AN APPEAL. 13 



can the chief influence come. It must chiefly proceed 
from that more numerous class, who are, comparative- 
ly speaking, beginners in life; who have but little to 
work with, except character and example; who must 
do their part towards forming the community aright, 
by forming themselves aright; who must elevate the 
general taste, by elevating their own taste ; who must 
promote good morals, by making their own lives cor- 
rect ; who must advance education, by educating them- 
selves ; who must give a right direction, by themselves 
going in the right direction. 

This is the great thing to be clone, and this is what 
every one can do. Do you ask how ? We answer, let 
every young man consider the great problem of life 
seriously and with care. Let him have a fixed aim ; a 
purpose which he will accomplish, a work which he 
will do. Not the plan for a year only ; not the pur- 
pose which to-morrow will change ; but a fixed aim, a 
life-purpose, to which everything shall be made to 
bend, which everything shall be made to subserve. — 
We need not say a good aim, a good purpose. I defy 
you to have any other, if you adopt it deliberately. — . 
You cannot make up your mind to the devotion of your 
lives to any mean or worthless pursuit, even if you 
try. You may do the thing itself; you may devote 
yourselves to mere labor, like a beast of burden; or to 
mere pleasure, like the butterfly; or to iniquity, as 
though you loved it for its own sake. But this will 
not be from a fixed purpose, as your selected plan of 
life. It will be because you have no plan, because you 
are putting off to some more convenient season the 
claims of duty and religion. Bring yourselves to say* 
"this shall be my aim in life; this is the whole work 



14 AN APPEAL. 



•which my whole life shall accomplish;" and as sure- 
ly as your soul was made in the image of your God, 
you will turn your face heavenward. The great delu- 
sion of sin is this: we persuade ourselves that for a few 
months or years, we may live "without a fixed aim and 
yet go in no fixed direction; that we may continue in 
certain wrong courses, indulging ourselves in sinful 
pleasures, giving ourselves only to worldly pursuits, 
and that by and by we will begin a new course with a 
higher aim in life. And so we go onward to our ruin. 
For he who has no fixed aim in a right direction, may 
be sure that he is steadily going in a wrong. The 
strong folds of habit will gather round him; his moral 
tastes will be perverted; his influence will be exerted 
on the side of evil; his whole life will become a failure. 

Throw your minds forward now, if you can, and in 
imagination place yourselves at the closing term of a 
long life. Let the three score years pass over you, with 
all their varied cares and occupations, until the physi- 
cal frame is already bowing under their influence, and 
the freshness of life has gone, and the account must in 
the course of nature, soon be rendered in. Sit down 
as at that advanced age, in your counting-room, in your 
office, or at your own fireside, and let the former years 
pass in review before you, that you may read the re- 
cord they are bearing onward to eternity. Let memo- 
ry play a faithful part, until the whole picture of your 
life is held up before your mind's eye. 

At first, it comes indistinctly and in confused lines, 
but gradually more and more plain, until each object 
is distinctly seen, and each event distinctly remember- 
ed. The history of your life is before you, and either 
for good or for evil, you are compelled to read it. 



AN APPEAL. 



15 



With what different feelings will it be, according to 
the manner in which your lives have been spent. If it 
is the history of a childhood full of promise, in which 
fond parents expended the treasures of love upon you, 
and in which the early development of your minds 
gave earnest of a vigorous and manly character, but 
from which you passed to the years of wayward and 
undisciplined youth; if, as the history goes on, it tells 
you of one who advanced in years, but not in know- 
ledge; who was industrious because he was compelled 
to be, to gain a living, and whose surplus means, large 
or small, were expended for idle and unprofitable pleas 
sures, or for fooli.-h and sinful indulgences; if it tells 
of one who had no fixed plan of life, but went forward 
as he was carried by the force of example, to which he 
submitted himself, even when he despised it; if it tells 
you of one whose place in the world was merely to do 
a certain amount of daily work, and to be paid for it, 
but whose influence upon the real interests of society was 
either negative or baneful; if it tells you of a man whose 
name is not written with honor upon any public record, 
or upon any enterprise of usefulness or philanthropy; 
if, as you read the continued history, you see that so 
far as all the great interests of man are concerned — ■ 
education, refinement, art, morality, religion — that the 
man of whom you are reading might as well never 
have lived at all; that in all these respects his history 
is a blank; that for all the real uses of life, his exist- 
ence has been a failure and a mistake. Young man ! 
if this history should be the record of your own life, 
with what feelings would you read it? Was it for no 
more than this, that you were placed here? Are you 
satisfied to think of so tame and insignificant a result 



16 AN APPEAL. 



of a life -which begins with so many aspiring hopes? 
Is this to be the end of all your youthful ambition? a 
record stale, fiat, and unprofitable, which you yourself 
are ashamed to read, and which no one else will either 
read or remember? 

Yet I have spoken of no crime. The record which 
we have now been reading, is not so much of a wicked 
life, as of one passed in the common routine of events, 
with nothing either very good or very bad to mark it. 
To him who is passing such a life, it seems well enough. 
The finger of scorn is not pointed at him; he holds 
a position comparatively respectable; he earns his own 
living, occasionally helps a friend or neighbor, and 
never does anything to bring absolute disgrace upon 
his name. There are so many whose lives are worse, 
that he is tolerably well satisfied with himself. But 
how meagre and unsatisfactory must the whole appear, 
when it passes under that stern review at the last. 
When the close of life comes, can any one of us be sat- 
isfied with its result, unless we feel that in some res- 
pect it has been a good thing for the cause of humani- 
ty and for the glory of God, that we have lived? 

What then, must be the feelings of him, who reads 
the records of a life? not only worthless, but wicked? 
If that too faithful memory recalls days of folly and 
nights of crime? If dissipation, and revelry, and licen- 
tiousness, and blasphemy, and violation of trust, and 
broken promises, are the headings of the chapters, as 
he reads from page to page. Think of one, who, in the 
silent lonel'ness of old age, broods over recollections 
such as these! He feels that he does not comprehend 
the depth to which he has fallen, the light of eternity 
is needed to reveal that to him, but he knows enough to 



AN APPEAL. 17 



be covered with shame, and the despondency cf his 
heart is but little better than despair. Young man! 
kneel down and pray to your God, that he may save 
you from such a close of life as this! Pray for early 
death, for poverty, for suffering, for ignominy, rather 
than to be left in the darkness of that sorrow. For 
nothing can come to you in this world, which would 
not seem joy and happiness in comparison with this. 

And what difference will it make, if such a review 
of sin comes before you in the gilded hall of wealth, 
or under the destitution of poverty? Will the gold 
adcrn the record itself, so that you can read it pleas- 
antly? Will it become an illuminated page, because 
the headings of those fearful chapters are embellished 
with bright coloring, and the volume encased in costly 
binding? Will "innocence seduced," and "virtue cor- 
rupted," and "religion profaned," appear less hateful 
on that account? Or will they not seem rather to be 
written in burning letters ; illuminated indeed, but as 
if by the fierceness of fire ? You may bribe the world, 
and buy its good opinion, but can you bribe your con- 
science? Can you circumvent your God? 

Turn away from so sad a picture. Let the retro- 
spect of our life come under what circumstances it 
may, in riches or in poverty, in a position of great in- 
fluence, or in one of comparative obscurity; but let it 
be the retrospect of a life well spent — a life of truth, 
of honor and sobriety — a life of manly earnestness to 
do ( whatever we were able to remove the sufferings of hu- 
manity, to educate ourselves in practical goodness, to 
promote the cause of morality and religion. It may 
recall no great deeds of philanthropy, but if the cham- 
bers of our imagination contain no pictures of guilt; 



AN APPEAL. 



if in the last review of life we are able honestly to 
say, "Religion and morality have not suffered at our 
hands; but by a daily good example, and by the faith- 
ful use of whatever means and influence we possessed, 
we have done whatever we eould, for God and for 
Christ's sake;" then will the closing days of life be to 
us as the beginning of ELaven; and when the world 
begins to recede from our eyes, our hearts will be filled 
with the peace which passeth all understanding. 

I speak unto you, therefore, young men, that ye may 
become strong; that the word of God may abide in you, 
and that ye may overcome the wicked one. Love not 
the world, neither the things that are in the world. — 
For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and 
the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the 
Father, but is of the world. And the world passeth 
away and the lust thereof, but he that doeth the will 
of God abideth forever. 



LECTURE II 

0*lf- Guitar*. 



"Get -wisdom ; get understanding. * * * Take fast hold of 
instruction; let her not go; keep her, for she is thy life." — 
Prov.iv, 5, 13. 



My subject for this evening is self-education. The 
word is often applied to the acquisition of knowledge 
alone, hut we now give it a more extended and more 
important application. Not only the intellect needs to 
be educated, but also the tastes, the affections, the man- 
ners, and the character. There is diversity of tal- 
ents, of gifts and of opportunities. It is our duty to 
use those which we have to the best advantage, and 
thereby to secure their enlargement. 

The majority of young men in this country are led, 
either by necessity or choice, to enter upon the active 
duties of life with an imperfect education, and com- 
paratively unformed in character. In older countries 
a 'greater degree of development is required in advance; 
but in this new and vigorous land, it is enough if one 
is able to do the task which immediately devolves upon 
him. He is then set to work, and is very often kept 
so constantly employed, that it requires a good deal of 



20 SELF-EDUCATION. 

resolution to find either time or inclination for any- 
thing else. There is a strong temptation to give up the 
leisure time which comes, either to natural indolence 
or to frivolous amusement. If the temptation is yielded 
to, the result is constant deterioration of character; 
and, instead of educating himself, the young man is 
soon diverted from the best purposes of life, and 
brought under influences which forbid either his moral 
or intellectual elevation. 

The great fault of the young under such circumstan- 
ces, as we have already said, is the want of a fixed aim 
and of resolution in keeping it. There is a want also 
of self-reliance. They too readily yield their own 
principles and purposes to those around them, and in- 
stead of forming themselves after the model which 
they held before them at first, they suffer themselves 
to be formed by others. It is here that the importance 
of self-education is seen. 

The young should begin with a standard of excel- 
lence before them, to which they should resolutely con- 
form themselves. There should be a fixed determina- 
tion to make the best of one's self, in whatever cir- 
cumstances we are placed. Let the young man deter- 
mine, that whatever he undertakes he will do well; 
that he will make himself master of the business upon 
which he enters, and always prepare himself for ad- 
vancement by becoming worthy of it. It is not op- 
portunity of rising which is wanting, so often as the 
ability to rise. 

It is not the patronage of friends and the outward 
helps of fortune, to which the prominent men of our 
country owe their elevation, either in wealth or influ- 
ence, so much as to their own vigorous and steady ex- 



SELF-EDUCATION. 21 

erticns. We hear a great many complaints, both among 
young men and old, of the favoritism of fortune, and 
the partiality of the world; but my observation leads 
me to believe that to a great extent those who deserve 
promotion obtain it. Those who are worthy of confi- 
dence, will have confidence reposed in them. Those 
who give evidence of ability and industry, will find op- 
portunity enough for their exercise. 

Take a familiar illustration. A young man engages 
in some business? who is in every respect a beginner in 
life. A common school education is all that he can 
boast. He knows almost nothing of the world, and 
very little of the occupation on which he has entered. 
He performs his duty from day to day sufficiently well, 
and does what he is expected to do. But it does not 
enter his mind to do anything beyond what is required, 
nor to enlarge his capacities by reading or reflection. 
He is, at the best, a steady, plodding man, who will go 
forward, if at all, very slowly, and will rise, if at all, to 
no great elevation. He is not the sort of person who 
is looked for to occupy a higher position. One oppor- 
tunity of advancement after another may come directly 
in his reach, and he asks the influence of friends to 
push him upward. They give it feebly, because they 
have no great hope of success, and are not confident in 
their own recommendation. As a matter of course, 
some one else, more competent or more earnest, steps in 
before him, and then we hear renewed complaints of 
favoritism and injustice. Such an one may say in his 
defence, that he has been guilty of no dereliction of 
duty; that no fault has been found with him, and that 
therefore, he was entitled to advancement. But this 
does not follow. Something more than that may rea- 



22 SELF-EDUCATION. 

sonably be required. To bestow increased confidence, 
we require the capacity and habit of improvement in 
those whom we employ. The man who is entitled to 
rise, is one who is always enlarging his capacity, so that 
he is evidently able to do more than he is actually 
doing. 

In every department of business, whether of the me- 
chanic or merchant, or whatever it may be, there is a 
large field of useful knowledge, which should be care- 
fully explored. An observing eye and an inquiring 
mind will always find enough for examination and 
study. It may not seem to be of immediate use; it 
may have nothing to clo with this week's or this year's 
duty, yet it is worth knowing. The mind gains vigor 
by the inquiry, and the hand itself obtains greater 
skilfulness by the intelligence which directs it. 

The result is all the difference between a mere drudge 
and an intelligent workman ; between the mere sales- 
man or clerk, and the enterprising merchant; between 
the obscure and pettifogging lawyer, and the sagacious, 
influential counselor. It is the difference between one 
who deserves to be, and will be, stationary in the world, 
and one who having determined lo make the best of 
himself, will continually rise in influence and true re- 
spectability. This whole difference we may see every 
day among those who have enjoyed nearly equal oppor- 
tunities. We may allow something to what are called 
the accidents of social influence, and the turns of for- 
tune. But after all fair allowance has been made, we 
shall find that the great cause of difference is in the 
men themselves. Let the young man who is beginning 
life, put away from him all notions of advancement 
without desert. A man of honorable feelings will not 



SELF-EDUCATION. 23 



even desire it. He will rather shrink from engaging 
in duties which he is not able fairly to perform. He 
will first of all secure to himself the capacity of per- 
forming them, and then he is ready for them whenever 
they come. 

The truth of what I have now said will be admitted 
by most persons, with application to the business in 
which each one is engaged. It will be admitted that 
the young mechanic or the young merchant should in- 
form himself, as soon and as thoroughly as possible, in 
the whole range of the occupation in which he has 
embarked. Every one can see the direct utility of 
this. But when a larger application is given to the 
same principles, it is often disputed. It is thought 
quite unnecessary, for those who belong to the working 
world, to trouble themselves about general information, 
or to educate themselves beyond their immediate walk 
in life. There is almost a prejudice against one who 
devotes much attention to subjects of art or science, or 
general literature, as though such occupations were in- 
consistent with the ordinary routine of business life. 

Nor would I meet this prejudice by too positive de- 
nial. I am willing to allow that he who has his own 
way to make in the world, must fix his eye intently 
upon some one object of pursuit, and not suffer his 
mind to be distracted from it by anything else. That 
must be his work in life, to whbh every other pursuit 
must for the time be subordinate. Particularly is this 
true t© the beginner. His heart must be in his busi- 
ness. He must lay hold upon it with a grasp that noth- 
ing can loosen. He must attend to its smallest details, 
in preference to things which are in themselves a thou- 
sand times more important. For the present duty, is 



24 SELF-EDUCATION. 

always that which must be performed. We cannot 
excuse ourselves for its neglect because it is insignifi- 
cant or disagreeable, or because something else more 
pleasant and seemingly more profitable offers itself. 
Especially, when we are employed by others, under an 
arrangement to do a specific work for which we receive 
compensation, we are bound to perform every part of it 
faithfully, although to our own loss and discomfort. 
We have no right even to improve ourselves at the ex- 
pense of those whom we serve. Nor are we wise if we 
suffer ourselves to be diverted from the occupation 
which we have deliberately chosen, for the culti- 
vation or taste or the acquisition of knowledge. 

He who neglects his Coke upon Littleton for the 
beauties of Shakspeare, may be commended for his 
taste, but will never do much as a lawyer. He who 
loves the books in his own library so much, that he 
turns over the books in his counting room with disgust, 
may become a scholar, but not a merchant. Whatever 
is our occupation, therefore, particularly while we are 
young, should be mad6 our chief work. It should 
stand first in our thoughts. We should never neglect 
it for the sake of any incidental advantages, however 
great they may appear. But in all this there is no- 
thing inconsistent with the work of self -education. 
This steadfastness of purpose, this close adherence to a 
fixed plan of life, is in itself a good discipline, both 
for the mind and character. 

Let us make our work a part of the general plan of 
duty and self -improvement, and we can bring under 
the same plan all other things which tend to the same 
result. There is no necessity of one part of our duty 



SELF-EDUCATION. 25 

interfering with another. Rightly done, the proper 
performance of each part will help all the rest. 

I know the objection which immediately arises, when 
any plan of self-education is proposed. It is the want 
of time. But, generally speaking, it would come nearer 
the truth to say " want of inclination." Very few 
persons are so burdened with work that they cannot 
find one or two hours in the day at their own com- 
mand. It requires, indeed, some resolution to use 
such time according to a regular plan of self-education; 
but in that case we ought not to plead the want of time, 
but of purpose. The proper and jud'cious use of one 
hoar a day is enougn to make any of us well educated 
men in the course of a few years. Make the trial faith- 
fully, and you will be astonished how much can be ac- 
complished in that one hour a day. Some of the pro- 
foundest scholars and most voluminous writers in the 
world, have confined themselves to their study but two 
or three hours daily. The rest of their time has been 
given to the active pursuits of life. 

There is, undoubtedly, a part of the year in which 
young men cannot find the hour of which I now speak. 
There is a part of the year in which they are over- 
worked as if they were beasts of burden. It is a pity, 
and it seems to me wrong that it is so. It is often a 
permanent injury to their health, and such seasons of 
over-working leave them in a state of body and mind 
most unfavorable for the work of self.improvement, 
when the time for it is again allowed. He who has 
been thus crowded and over-laden for two or three 
months, is apt to feel, when the burden is thrown off, 
that he can relish nothing but frivolous amusements or 
complete idleness. Thus, a few months of excessive 



1* 



26 SELF-EDUCATION. 

working becomes an excuse for wasting the leisure time 
of the whole year. But it needs no argument to show 
the folly of this. "When every moment is occupied with 
work we cannot he blamed for having no leisure. But 
when the work ceases and the leisure comes, it should 
be all the more diligently used. The great majority 
of young men in this city have their evenings to them- 
selves, if nothing more, during seven or eight months 
of the year. Let one half of that time be spent with a 
view to self -education, in the acquisition of knowledge, 
and in the improvement of the mind, and how great a 
revolution would be wrought by a few years in our city. 
What a noble class of young men would then come for- 
ward to occupy the prominent places in society. How 
quickly would all the interests of science, of literature, 
of art and philanthropy flourish among us. The fool- 
ish and wicked dissipations of city life would rapidly 
decline, and the moral wilderness would blossom as the 
rose. 

We do not deny the necessity of amusement and of 
recreation. Neither bodily nor mental health can be 
secured without them. But if our recreations are judi- 
ciously selected, we shall find time enough for them, 
without interference with more important things. 

It is when we make a business of pleasure that it 
becomes hurtful. It is when we seek for amusement 
in the haunts of dissipation, or with wicked compan- 
ions, that it becomes sinful. A sensible m m can find 
time enough and ways enough for all the recreation he 
needs, without encroachment upon the real work of 
life. I have, indeed, met with a few instances in 
which persons are kept so constantly at work that they 
have almost no time to themselves. I know young 



SELF-EDUCATION. 27 

men who, through a greater part of the year, are so 
overtasked that when the Sunday comes they have 
heart for nothing, and are almost fit for nothing, ex- 
cept sleeping or idleness, and who decline coming to 
church because they cannot keep awake. In such ca- 
ses their employers are guilty of great sin. But they 
are the exceptions which serve to show that it is very 
different with the majority. With nearly all there is 
time enough for the common work of the day and for 
needful recreation, and a surplus of one or two hours 
at least for Sf If -improvement. 

We a^ain admit that the proper use of that hour or 
two requires a resolute purpose. It must often be done 
as a duty, rather than as a pleasure. But it may be 
done, and by those who take the right view of life it 
will be done. The end in view is worth striving for. 
It is to make ourselves intelligent, thoughtful anl wel- 
educated men. 

, It is to raise ourselves above mere servants and la- 
borers into a position of influence and growing useful- 
ness. It is to make men of ourselves, and to fit us for 
the duties which men alone can do. If I could induce 
all who hear me to spend the evenings of this coming 
winter with a direct view to self-education, they would 
have reason to thank me for it, all the rest of their 
lives. The result of the whole life would be thereby 
changed, for this is a work which once entered upon 
will not be abandoned. 

Jle who begins to grow in knowledge and refinement 
will continue to advance because he learns to love the 
pursuit. I ask you, therefore, to think carefully upon 
this subject. Do you not need this self-education ? 

Are you satisfied to remain as you now are ? 



28 SELF-EDUCATION. 



Can you not see that your usefulness, your happi- 
ness and your real respectability would be indefinitely 
increased, by devoting a part of each day to the acqui- 
sition of knowledge and the improvement of your 
mind? 

None can be so blind as not to see this ; a great many 
are too indolent to act accordingly. 

But, first of all, as the beginning and foundation of 
all improvement, is the distinct acknowledgement of its 
necessity. To acknowledge it in general terms, is not 
enough. It must be felt. As we feel the necessity of 
food when we are hungry, so must we feel the necessi- 
ty of improvement, before we shall succeed in gaining 
it. The young are prevented from feeling it, chiefly 
by two causes; sometimes by self-conceit; sometimes 
by having too low a standard of excellence before them. 
We are apt to think better of ourselves in early life 
than at any subsequent period. As we grow older and 
wiser we feel our deficiencies more, for it requires a 
certain degree of knowledge to know how much is to 
be learned. Our ideal of excellence also remains low 
until the mind and character are developed. Thus 
from the two causes together, we are easily satisfied in 
youth with attainments, of which in after years we 
would feel ashamed. This same experience we go 
through, most probably, whether we are scholars, or 
men of business, or men of the world. Accordingly 
you will find many young men, who account themselves 
complete merchants and accomplished gentlemen, when 
in fact they are but beginners, and perhaps give but a 
bad promise for the future in either way. 

It requires a great deal to make an accomplished 
gentleman. It is not only to wear good clothing in a 



SELF-EDUCATION. 29 

way which shows that one is used to it, or to he free 
from awkwardness in manners, although this is some- 
thing. There must be an accomplished mind. There 
must be delicacy of feeling and refinement of taste. For 
all this will show itself in the manners of a gentleman. 
Without it there may be a kind of polish — that which 
the dancing master and the clothing store can give — 
which is the highest ambition of many persons to at- 
tain. Many a dapper and spruce young gentleman is 
as proud of its attainment, as if it were a sufficient 
passport to perfect gentility ; but it is not so. To be 
an accomplished gentleman, one must be a thinking 
and well educated man. No exteri?al polish can take 
the place of the thoughtful mind which gives a manly 
expression to the features, and the refinement of taste 
which bestows grace aud gentleness upon the deport- 
haent. 

And so, in like manner, does it require a great deal 
to, make a complete merchant. Merely to buy and to 
sell, to know how to make a : hrewd bargain, to under- 
stand the quality of the common articles of merchan- 
dize, is very far from being all. All of this may be 
learned by one who cannot speak his own language 
correctly, and who has no conception of the great uses 
of trade. Commerce is the great civilizing agent of 
the world. Let it work as it ought to do, hand in hand 
with knowledge and virtue and religion, and it is the 
messenger of peace and good will among men. The 
merchant who understands the nobleness of his calling, 
occupies a position far above that of mere buying and 
selling. lie cannot be narrow-minded: he cannot stoop 
to the mean and tricky contrivances, by which men 
over-reach each other. He is not contented merely to 



30 SELF-EDUCATION. 

make money, and to spend it. He takes a large view of 
society and its interests. His intercourse with different 
parts of the world frees his mind from prejudice, and 
prepares him to receive light from whatever quarter it 
may come. He feels it to be his duty to introduce into 
the community where he lives, all the means of im- 
provement which are found elsewhere. Thus regarded, 
commerce becomes an interchange of ideas as well as 
of goods. But to make it so, those who conduct it must 
be men of intelligence, of refinement and of truth. 
The young man who enters upon such a career should 
feel respect for his calling. He should determine to 
qualify himself by self culture, by the acquisition of 
knowledge and the practice of virtue, to become a 
complete merchant; to rise to the head of his profes- 
sion. No man need to have a more honorable ambi- 
tion than that. It will task all his powers; it will give 
room for the exercise of his best faculties, and for the 
use of his highest attainments. How sad it is to see 
so many, with such a career before them, contented to 
remain all their lives with no higher ideas, than to 
write a good hand, or to make a close bargain. There 
is no scholarly profession, better calculated to enlarge 
the mind and elevate the character than the pursuits of 
commerce; yet they are often debased to the most piti- 
ful uses, and those who engage in them often remain 
through their whole lives, ignorant and uneducated. 

To prevent such a result the young man who enters 
upon this career should take himself in hand. He 
should place his standard of excellence very high and 
use ail the means in his reach to attain it. Chiefly 
through self-culture, in the daily acquisition of know- 
ledge, and by a manly and honorable course of life, he 



SELF-EDUCATION. 31 

should make himself worthy of his calling, and of the 
highest honors it can bring. How different will be the 
whole tenor of his life, if he enters upon it with such 
views as these. How easy will it be to resist ihe en- 
ticements of pleasure and the allurements of vice. 
With what instinctive disgust will he shrink from low 
associates and the vulgarity of dissipation. "With such 
an end in view, how easy will it be to find time for 
reading and opportunity for self-improvement. 

With such a purpose in his heart from day to day, he 
is secured from the temptations to which youth is chief- 
ly exposed, and has only to press forward to secure the 
highest reward which a true ambition can ask. 

We might go through nearly the same course of re- 
mark with regard to the mechanic. The mere work- 
man does not seem to occupy an elevated place in so- 
ciety ; although, if he does his work well, and conducts 
himself with honesty and sobriety, he occupies a place 
of usefulness, and is worthy of respect. By the force 
of character, if he has no other advantages, he may 
work his way to confidence, and to high estimation 
among men. But there is no necessity of his remain- 
ing a mere workman. In this country, as large and as 
good a field of action is open before him as before any 
other. If he has the natural ability, and will use the 
opportunities of improvement offered to him, he may 
rise to as great height as he can reasonably desire. 
Look at the triumphs of art, the perfection to which 
the science of mechanics has been brought in our day. 
Look at the names which society delights to honor, in 
this country and in England, and see how many of 
them are of men who began at the work-bench, or at the 
forge ; and who, by the application of their minds to 



32 SELF-EDUCATION. 

the material on which they worked, carved for them- 
selves a way to distinction and usefulness. The name 
of "mechanic" has long ceased to be one of social con- 
tempt. Let the young mechanic learn to be a thinking 
and observing man, and he will find as easy and as 
rapid progress in the world as through any other call- 
ing. There is certainly nothing in work itself to de- 
grade the mind ; but, on the contrary, we are more 
apt to find the development of practical and sound 
judgment in the workshop than in the study. Only let 
the same pains be taken to improve the mind, and the 
working man would have the advantage. We admit, 
as we have already done, that it requires strong reso- 
lution in one who has been closely employed all day, to 
turn his attention to the work of self-culture at night. 
But it is certainly not impossible, nor impracticable, 
for many do it ; and my object in speaking is to in- 
spire such resolution in those who hear me. If it were 
a thing that could be done without effort, it would prob- 
ably be not so well worth the doing. 

There never was a country or an age, in which great- 
er opportunities were offered to young men than our 
own. The age is one in which all the elements of ad- 
vancing civilization are at work. Our country is, per- 
haps, the only one in the world which offers a fair and 
equal field for the competition of all who enter upon 
it. There is every excitement for the young man to 
lay hold upon his work in life, with the vigorous deter- 
mination to make the most of himself, and to play his 
part in the world manfully. Society places no obsta- 
cles in the way of his advancement. There are no 
serious difficulties to be overcome, except in himself. — 
If he remains obscure and useless it is his own fault. 



SELF-EDUCATION. 33 

If he fails to become a well-educated and influential 
man, it is not for the want of opportunity, but of indus- 
try and enterprise. 

Look particularly at the position which our own city 
occupies, and see if a young man could reasonably ask 
a nobler sphere of action, or better opportunities of 
self-advancement than are offered here. In this great 
Western valley, which is destined to become the garden 
of the world, and will contain in itself a greater popu- 
lation than that of the whole United States at this 
time, our city is one of the chief points of influence. — 
By a remarkable growth it now contains nearly a hun- 
dred thousand inhabitants, and everything indicates 
that its future increase will be as rapid as the past. 
We shall have no reason to be surprised if in a few 
years its present number is doubled. A grand system 
of internal improvement is now begun, by which, if 
we take hold of it as we ought, this city will become 
the centre of a commerce as great as that of our lar- 
gest Eastern cities now. In ten years time it may 
stretch its iron arms from the sources to the mouth of 
the Mississippi, and from the Atlantic to the Pacific 
ocean. The imagination loses itself in the grandeur 
of such enterprises; but they seem chimerical only be- 
cause they are so great. They are perfectly practi- 
cable, for the resources at command are equal to the 
work, and the benefits realized at each advancing 
step, will secure their ultimate completion. 

A prudent man may hesitate to say what the West 
and its leading cities will become, for fear of being ac- 
counted visionary. But I doubt if any expectations 
have been formed so sanguine that they will not be 
accomplished and surpassed. 



34 SELF-EDUCATION. 



But with the possibility of such a future before us, 
what manner of men ought those to be to whom the 
vital interests of society are intrusted? In what man- 
ner shall they do their part now, so as to secure the 
prosperity for which we hope, and prepare themselves 
to meet its responsibilities? What kind of young men 
are needed in an infant city which promises to grow 
to such a robust manhood. It is not those who spend 
their time in the tavern, and at the billiard table; not 
those whose best ambition is to make a go@d figure in 
the ball room and the dance; not those who pride them- 
selves in their dress and equipage; not those whose 
only ambition in life is to become rich; but we need 
those who, keeping themselves free from idle dissipa- 
tion, begin their career with frugality and honorable 
industry, and with every step of their progress, take 
pains to educate themselves, to develop their minds, to 
mature their character, to strengthen their judgment; 
so that as their duties in life become more important, 
they will be able to perform them with faithfulness. 
We need young men who have an honorable ambition 
in life; determined to be useful according to their abil- 
ity, and to increase their ability, by diligent self -cul- 
ture and the practice of virtue. Give us a class of 
young men such as this, and what a glorious future 
ours would be. For I would again say, it is upon the 
young men that it chiefly depends. The older and 
wealthier portion of the community may do their part; 
but the tone of society, the intellectual and moral 
character of our city, ten or twenty years hence, de- 
pends chiefly upon those who are young now. Almost 
everything that is needed for the moral and intellectu- 
al growth of this community is yet to be done. A be- 



SELF-EDUCATION. 35 

ginning is scarcely made. Institutions of almost every 
kind are yet to be founded, or if already begun, need 
to be fostered and strengthened. In every department 
of philanthropy, of religious and moral enterprise, la- 
borers are needed. But still more than this: there is 
need of a more elevated public opinion, of greater re- 
finement of taste, of a higher standard of morality, 
of more profound respect for religion. We need an 
army drawn out in battle array, against the six hun- 
dred bar-rooms of the city, and against the thousand 
demoralizing influences so busily at work among us. 
Where shall we find the growing strength that is need- 
ed against the growing evil, except in the vigor of 
youthful manliness? Where shall we find recruits for 
that peaceful army, except among the j'oung men, 
whose own interests are chiefly in peril? 

Finally, let us remember that the chief influence 
which every one of us exerts, is the influence of char- 
acter. This is an individual work, and it is the most 
important work that any one of us can do. We do it 
faithfully, in proportion as we keep ourselves from the 
pursuit of folly, from the commission of sin. In pro- 
portion as we grow in excellence and usefulness. In 
proportion to our attainment of the christian graces, 
and to our practice of the christian virtues. Young 
men, what motive is wanting to secure your diligence 
and faithfulness, when the very same course of life 
will conduct you to self-respect, to honor among men, 
and, to the approbation of God? Therefore, get wis- 
dom, get understanding. Take fast hold of instruc- 
tion; let her not go; keep her, for she is thy life. 



LECTURE III. 



leisure &tme. 



" See then that ye walk cirtmmspeetly; not as fools, but as 
wise; redeeming the time."— Eph. v: 16, 17. 



The great difference between young men, with re- 
gard to the work (f self-improvement, comes from the 
different manner in which they employ their leisure 
time. The working day is very much the same to all. 
A specific task is to be done, and the motive for its 
faithful performance is so urgent that it is not likely 
to be neglected, except by those who have already ta- 
ken a good many steps towards becoming worthless. 
But in the manner of spending their leisure time, the 
greatest possible difference is found, and from this, in 
the course of years, proceeds almost the whole differ- 
ence among men. He who spends his leisure time well, 
is an improving man; he who spends it badly, is one 
who will remain stationary, or go downward. 

By leisure time, we mean, chiefly, the evening and 
the Sabbath. For although, during the clay, there are 
a great many hours quite idle, the etiquette of business 
is understood to forbid the young man to do anything 
with such unemployed time, except to lounge about the 



38 LEISURE TIME. 



store, or stand upon the pavement. I am not able to 
perceive the necessity of this; but as the rule is uni- 
versal, I take for granted that it is founded on right. 
Otherwise, I should suppose that it woivld be far better 
both for employers and employed, when perhaps five 
or six young men have almost nothing to do, for sever- 
al months in the year, that they should be encouraged 
in some regular plan of self-improvement; but having 
no practical knowledge upon the subject, 1 do not ven- 
ture to express an opinion. 

The leisure time of which we speak at present, is 
that which young men have entirely at their own con- 
trol. It does not belong to the business hours, and they 
may use it to good or bad purpose, or to no purpose, 
just as they please. From the manner in which they 
please to use it, I repeat, the ultimate difference in 
their characters and their prospects in life will chiefly 
depend. 

This may not at first be admitted. Young men are 
apt to think that if their working hours are well 
employed, it is no matter wnat becomes of the rest ; 
that it is their own time, for which they are responsible 
to nobody. But they will discover, before life closes, 
that they are responsible for it to their own consciences 
and to God. The sum of their responsibility and the 
result of their whole lives, for good or evil, depends 
upon this more than upon anything else. 

We grant that a single evening, whether idled away 
or w ell used, is no very great matter ; yet, perhaps 
that single evening may bring the commencement of a 
long train of vices, which ends in complete ruin. We 
grant that a single Sunday, devoted to amusement) 
may have no great influence upon the general eharac- 



LEISURE TIME. 39 



ter; yet that one day misspent, may be the first step 
towards a life of irreligion. But it is not of single 
violations of duty that we are now speaking, nor of 
the manner in which we spend the leisure time of a 
single day. I speak of the habit of life. How are 
yuur evenings generally spent ? To what employment 
is your Sunday generally devoted ? Answer that ques- 
tion for a year, and I will tell you, with almost abso- 
lute certainty, whether you are growing better or 
worse in character ; whether the tendency of your 
whole lives is upward or downward. Answer that 
question for a series of ten years, and we need nothing 
else to determine the degree of your real respectability 
and usefulness in the world. If I am to decide upon 
a man's character, I desire to know nothing more than 
this — how are his evenings and his Sundays passed. 

It is for the want of paying regard to this, that we 
are so often deceived in the real character of business 
men. We see one, for instance, who is every day 
punctually at his work, and who, through all the busi- 
ness hours, is found in his proper place. He is atten- 
tive and industrious there, and we pronounce him a 
good business man, and repose unlimited confidence in 
hiru. All at once, we find that his character is rotten 
at the core. He abuses our confidence, neglects our 
interests, and proves altogether unworthy &f trust. 
We are completely astonished at such a development. 
We speak of it as if it were a sudden change of char- 
acter, for which it is impossible to account. But if we 
had known, for several years before, to what pursuits 
his leisure time was devoted, we should have anticipa- 
ted the result, long before it actually came. There 
probably has been for many years some corrupting in- 



40 LEISURE TIME. 



influence, some vile habit of dissipation or self indul- 
gence, by which the character has been gradually un- 
dermined ; and although the fall itself seems to be 
sudden, the causes which led to it have long been at 
work. Our knowledge of the world should teach us 
never to put great confidence in any man's virtue or 
honesty, unless we know to what pursuits his leisure 
time is given. Then it is that his real tendencies show 
themselves. Then it is, when no longer under the 
external pressure of business, that he acts himself out 
most freely ; and if you find that his tastes are then 
depraved, that his pleasures are low, that his compan- 
ions are dissipated or vulgar, you may mark him as an 
unsafe man, who, sooner or later, will prove himself 
unworthy of respect or confidence. 

Take, for illustration, two general plans of life in 
the employment of leisure time. We need not select 
extreme cases, either of good or bad, but such as are 
met with in every day's observation. 

There are many who, when the day's work is over, 
are guided by no particular rule with regard to their 
evenings. They have no feeling of duty upon the sub- 
ject. To get rid of the time in some way, so that it may 
not be tedious, is their only thought. A half hour or 
more they idle about their hotels in very unprofitable 
conversation, and in laughter, which is apt to be loud, 
in proportion as the cause which excites it is objection- 
able. Thence they stroll in groups of two or three to- 
gether, perhaps to some stylish saloon, either with or 
without the intention of drinking, but generally it re- 
sults in their "taking something," and with some other 
groups, engaged in the same employment of killing 
time, the conversation becomes still more unprofitable 



LEISURE TIME. 41 



aud the mirth more boisterous. The billiard room or 
bowling alley demands their next attention, and there, 
perhaps, the rest of the evening is spent ; or if not, the 
transition is to some other amusements of about the 
same grade. Occasionally a little improvement is made 
upon this, by giving the evening and a great part of 
the night to the ball-room, where there is at least the 
refining influence of ladies' society, and generally speak- 
ing, the absence of vulgarity and dissipation. Occa- 
sionally the concert room affords a more refined and 
unobjectionable employment, or the theatre mingles 
with the entertainment some elements of instruction 
and intellectual enjoyment. Occasionally, when these 
different resorts become tiresome or too expensive, or 
when some particular temptation comes in the way, 
the evening is given to what is called a frolic, in which 
the elements of sin are mingled far enough to give 
piquancy and novelty to the entertainment, without 
awakening the severe reproaches of conscience. 

Such is the history of the evening. We have not 
spoken of intemperance, of gambling and licentious- 
ness, for these do not come till afterwards. We are 
speaking only of that mode of life into which young 
men fall, hecause they have no particular rule of con- 
duct, no fixed principle of life. Their Sundays will 
be in general of the same sort, with perhaps a great- 
er touch of respectability, resulting from their early 
associations with the day. They rise very late ; 
spend an unusual time over the newspaper; devote three 
or four hours to novel-reading, and two or three more, 
perhaps, after the dinner hour has been prolonged as 
much as possible, to an afternoon ride, in the progress 
of which it will be strange if something very much like 



42 LEISURE TIME. 



dissipation does not occur. Sometimes, but probably 
at long intervals, they find leisure to visit a church; 
but they do not feel quite comfortable there: for if the 
minister is faithful, he touches their consciences too 
much, and if not faithful, he is sure to be dull; so that 
their visits become less and less frequent, until they 
completely cease. Sometimes they find their way to 
their counting rooms, or other places of business, and 
either by themselves or with some customer, who has 
been introduced at a side door, they devote a few hours 
to their ordinary week-day work. Sometimes, and 
more frequently as time progresses, they join regular 
pleasure parties, which, upon the steamboat or else- 
where, are contrived for the profanation of the Sabbath 
upon a large scale. 

"We have not here spoken of an extreme case, al- 
though tolerably bad. You will find a great many 
such, among those who call themselves respectable and 
moral youDg men. You will also find a great many 
who are no longer young, but whose children are grow- 
ing up around them, the history of whose Sunday's and 
other leisure time, is very much what has now been 
given. 

The question we have now to ask is, what must be the 
effect of such a manner of life upon the whole charac- 
ter? Take a series of years, and what must be its in- 
fluence upon the mind and heart? Is a man likely to 
grow better under this discipline, or rather this want of 
discipline, or is he not quite certain to grow worse? Is 
he in a course of self-education, which will result in 
manliness of character, refinement of taste, true ele- 
gance of manners, or largeness of thought? Is he 
likely to retain his self-respect, his purity of feeling, or 



LEISURE TIME. 43 



his scrupulousness of conscience? Is he on the road to 
become a useful and good man, or the contrary? I 
think that the questions scarcely need an answer. 
They answer themselves, or if not, you have only to 
look upon those who try the experiment, and you will 
find an answer to fill you with sadness and regret. 

Take, then, an illustration of a different course, and, 
again, take not an extreme case, such as might never 
occur in real life, hut such as may be met with every 
day. It would be easy to describe a manner of life 
entirely free from all follies, in which not a clay nor an 
hour is wasted; in which the whole energies are devoted 
to usefulness and self -improvement. But a model cha- 
racter like this is so rarely met with,that it seems like an 
imaginary picture, and its very perfection causes a 
feeling of discouragement. As a teacher of morality, 
I would not be unreasonable in exaction. It is not 
well to expect too much. Something may be allowed 
to' waywardness and 3-outhf ul irresolution, and to the 
natural love of amusement. 

It is well, however, sometimes to hold before us an 
ideal of unsullied excellence, of unstained purity, of 
undivided allegiance to duty. It would be well for us 
to picture to ourselves what a young man might be- 
come, if his whole heart were given to the pursuit of 
goodness and wisdom. If we could follow such an one, 
as he resists one temptation after another, as he adds 
to his daily store of useful knowledge, as he cultivates 
in himself every Christian grace and manly virtue, 
conforming himself diligently to that standard of life 
which the Gospel has ordained — it would be impossible 
not to feel respect for the heroism of his daily life, and 
admiration for the victory which he daily obtains. 



LEISURE TIME. 



Such a contemplation would be a rebuke to our own in- 
difference, and would make us feel bow far short we 
are falling of our duty. We wonder that there are not 
more who take hold of life with this spirit. We won- 
der that there are so few who determine to make the 
very best of themselves, to make the most of their 
intellectual and moral strength in the service of God 
and man. But it is not one in a thousand — no, nor in 
ten thousand — who can honestly say that he is doing 
so. We excuse ourselves in so many deliberate omis- 
sions of duty, we waste so much time for the want of 
system in spending it, we allow so many faults of char- 
acter for the want of resolution in correcting them, 
that even when our general intention is good, we do 
not rise to one half the excellence of which we are 
capable. 

In our present treatment of the subject, however, 
while we would make things better if we could, let us 
take them as they are. We do not figure to ourselves, 
therefore, a model young man, in whom there are no 
faults, and who never wastes an hour of his time ; but 
one who is guided by prudence and a sense of duty in 
his ordinary life; who takes some pains to avoid the 
follies and dissipations which undermine the character, 
and to educate himself as a man and as a Christian, by 
the attainment of useful information. After his day's 
work is done, we may leave him sufficient time for rest 
and recreation. We do not limit him too closely, 
as to the number of hours in the week to be al- 
lowed for such purposes; only let him remember 
one thing, to carry his conscience with him wher- 
ever he goes and to whatever amusement he en- 
ters upon; for conscience belongs to our leisure not 



LEISURE TIME. 45 



less than to our working time. He keeps himself 
away, therefore, from every haunt of vice. He avoids 
bad companions, and takes pains to select good society. 
If some of his time is spent idly, no part of it will be 
spent badly; and after all allowance of this sort has 
been made, he will find a part of everyday, and a great 
many hours in every week, for judicious reading and 
study. The general purpose of self-education is never 
forgotten, and more or less rapidly the work is accom- 
plished. His Sundays are spent either in good society 
of friends and kindred, or in the perusal of books, cho- 
sen with a view to instruction rather than amusement; 
or in the performance of some work of Christian chari- 
ty and kindness. His church will not be neglected, but 
as a regular habit, either once or twice in the Sunday 
he goes there, not only as a habit, but for the worship 
of God, and to seek his blessing. 

Surely we have described no standard of ideal excel- 
lence here. Many would say that it is but a tame and 
insufficient character, which the pulpit ought not to 
hold up for imitation. It is the least that ia%ht be ex- 
pected of one educated by Christian parents, and who 
acknowledges his responsibility to God. Yet, imper- 
fect as it is, it is far above the actual attainments of 
the majorit}' of young men, and a wonderful improve- 
ment in society would take place if they could be ele- 
vated even to this point. 

But the more important remark to be made at pres- 
ent is this: That the result of such a course of life, fol- 
lowed through a series of eight or ten years, would be 
to elevate those who follow it in their own self-respect 
and in the respect of the community. They would, 
from year to year, become more intelligent, more 



46 LEISURE TIME. 



thoughtful, and better men. They would be removed 
further and further from the influences of vice, and 
would appear more and more as the friends of virtue. 

Compare them, at the end of ten years, with that 
class of young men whom we described a few minutes 
ago. In the beginning of their career a careless ob- 
server would not have seen the difference in the direc- 
tion they were taking. But the two toads which lie 
almost together at first, rapidly diverge from each oth- 
er, until it appears that one of them has led to worth- 
lessness and infamy, and the other to usefulness and 
virtue. 

And wherein has the difference consisted ? Simply 
in the different use of leisure time, in the different 
manner in which the evening and the Sunday have 
been passed. It is the difference between two or three 
hours a day well spent and the same time wasted. The 
whole problem of life has been settled by those few 
hours, which are generally thought of no importance, 
and which young men are apt to feel may be thrown 
away whenever they please. 

The most obvious, and perhaps, the most important 
means of self-improvement, is Reading. Books are food 
to the mind. Well selected books, like wholesome food, 
impart strength and vigor, and bring the mind to its 
full growth. But as all food is not wholesome, and we 
may vise that which is poisonous or hurtful, so there is 
a great deal of readieg which is poisonous and hurtful 
to the mind. 

We would not condemn all fictitious works as belong- 
ing to this class. The taste for such writings, whether 
in prose or poetry, is as natural to us, as any other in- 
tellectual tendency. Particularly Vvhen we are young, 



LEISURE TIME. 47 



they are received with a relish that no other books can 
impart. A great deal of the instruction that we re- 
ceive, comes in this form ; and although we may ad- 
mit, that this mode of making study attractive, and 
learning easy, has been carried much too far, we should 
be quite unwise to reject it altogether. 

I cannot help saying, however, although it is only by 
the way, that the inordinate love of novel reading which 
marks this generation, probably proceeds from the 
multiplication of juvenile books of fiction, of which our 
Sunday schools and day schools are full. One would 
think, to look at them, that there is no way of incul- 
cating a good moral, except by clothing it in a fictitious 
tale of love and danger. Books of instruction are 
scarcely put into the hands of the young, unless they 
are first disguised. Then, like the sugar-covered med- 
icine, they are taken; but unfortunately, by a per- 
verse mental digestion, the medicinal properties are too 
often rejected, and the sugar alone retained. Even 
arithmetic and geography are made to undergo a di- 
luting and disguising process, so as to save the y»ung, 
as far as possible, from all exertion of thought. It is 
not surprising that children educated in this way, re- 
fuse to read, as they grow older, except under the same 
condition of being amused. These remarks, however, 
are leading me away from my present subject. 

We do not condemn the reading of fiction, as being 
in itself wrong or hurtful. Many books which com« un- 
der this class, may be read, not only with safety but 
with profit, by almost any one. The danger arises in 
such reading, first, from its engrossing too much of our 
time, and secondly, from a bad selection of the books 
read. 



48 LEISURE TIME. 



No one need expect to become a wise or well educated 
man by novel reading. As giving rest or recreation to 
the mind it is very well, but not for substance of 
thought and maturity of intellect. 

One might as well expect to gain strength to his body 
from sweet-meats and confectionary, as for bis mind 
from works of fiction. The very best of them should 
be used as an occasional refreshment ; considered as 
the daily food, they are absolutely pernicious. The 
young person who becomes a confirmed novel reader, 
with a work of fiction always on hand, undergoes a 
process of mental deterioration more rapidly than he is 
aware. You might as well expect to make a person re- 
ligious, by the pitiful dilutions of Christianity, -which 
appear under the head of religious novels at the pres- 
ent day, as to educate yourselves by historical roman- 
ces — from Waverly down to the latest of the fruitful 
brain of James. He who is seeking for self-improve- 
ment will read them sparingly. 

So much may be said even of the better class of fic- 
tion. But what shall we say of that, whose very touch 
is defilement? which we compliment if we only call it 
trash, and with which to become acquainted, is to bid 
farewell to all purity of thought and all refinement of 
feeling ? It would be better not to know how to read, 
than to read it. He who holds it in his hand is pro- 
claiming his own vulgarity of taste, and is doing open- 
ly that which he should be ashamed to do in secret. 
I do not fear to speak too strongly. I have not read, if 
it were all told, an hundred pages of such literature in 
my life ; yet I feel that even in that, a serious mistake 
was committed, and it would have been far better not 
to have seen it. As iron-rust upon the hand, which 



LEISURE TIME. 49 



stays there until it wears off, so is an impure thought 
suggested to the mind, or a vile picture painted upon 
the imagination. We would implore the young to keep 
their hands off from such books, and to turn their 
minds away from the pollution which such books bring. 
If you have already learned to enjoy reading them, 
you have reason to tremble for your safety. For he 
who relishes the record of that which is vile, is almost 
prepared, himself, to be guilty of the same vileness. 

To form a more correct taste in reading is by no 
means difficult. At first it may require some effort, 
but like every other habit, soon becomes easy and pleas- 
ant. Biography, history, the higher departments of 
polite literature, works of art and science, are within 
every one's reach. At first it may seem less attractive 
than the light and flashy reading, for which they are 
so much neglected ; but in a little while they become 
far more interesting, and with every page you read, you 
feel that you are taking a step in knowledge and re- 
finement. They may not come under the head of amuse- 
ment, and it is not as such that I would recommend them, 
but experience will prove to you that they supply heal- 
thy recreation to the mind, and prepare it for the re- 
turning duties of the next day, far better than books 
which produce an unhealthy excitement, or pleasures 
by which the body has been fatigued and the mind ex- 
hausted. It is not as amusement that we recommend 
them, but as a study, and as a means of self-education. 
Time enough for amusement may be found beside. Can 
we not spare one or two hours a day, if not as a pleas- 
ure, then as a duty, in preparing ourselves for the real 
work of life, for doing our part, as men and as Chris- 
tians, in society. In an age like this, where knowledge 



50 LEISURE TIME. 



is almost in the atmosphere we breathe, can we content 
ourselves with ignorance ? In a country where a good 
education is an essential requisite to respectability and 
in which vulgar-minded and uninformed men find it 
every day harder to retain any influence, shall we re- 
fuse to make the needful exertion to educate ourselves, 
so as to deserve respect and to command influence ? If 
I am speaking to those who are indifferent to such 
things, my words will be in vain; but if you desire them, 
if you wish to deserve respect, if you wish to obtain in- 
fluence, if 3 r ou wish to become useful by the best exer- 
tion of your faculties, then you will be ready to take 
some pains in its accomplishment. You will not expect 
to obtain so great a result without systematic and long- 
continued effort. 

Let me therefore advise you, as your friend, to use a 
part of every day for careful and studious reading. Be- 
gin, if you please, with one hour, or even with less, but 
let it be done as a duty. It will bring its enjoyment, 
but let it be done as a duty. 

Let your first aim be to supply the deficiencies of ear- 
ly education. Do not smile at the suggestion of a 
grammar and dictionary. I know business men who 
cannot tell where the places with which they trade are 
situated, and who cannot write a commercial letter 
without violations both of good grammar and cor- 
rect spelling. It would be no disgrace to them, I think, 
to have Murray and Webster within reach. To a shal- 
low mind this may seem boy's work, but if you will 
read the lives of the most eminent scholars, you will 
find that they are always learners. The best educated 
man must frequently return to the rudiments of 
knowledge, to see that the foundation is well laid. How 



LEISURE TIME. 51 



much more is such a course needful to those who have 
never gone beyond a common school education, and to 
•whom even that was very imperfect. 

Such is the case with the great majority of young 
men who enter upon business. They are not beyond the 
necessity cf schooling. They need elementary instruc- 
tion. They are uninformed upon subjects upon which 
continued ignorance is inexcusable. They are not to 
blame for this; but they are to blame if they take no 
pains to supply the acknowledged deficiency. There is 
no necessity for their remaining ignorant or uneducated. 
Nay, there is no excuse for it. The means of self-edu- 
cation are within reach of all, not only books, but 
teachers, if need be, and the only thing wanting is, 
sufficient resolution and industry to use them. 

As to the choice of books and the course of reading 
to be followed by each one, no general rule can be 
given. This must depend upon the taste, and previous 
'education of each individual. But every young man 
should have some method, both in the choice of books 
and in using them. Beside his lighter reading, which 
is partly for amusement sake, let him always have 
some one book, at least, or some one branch of study, 
to which his careful attention is every day directed. 
He will reap from this a double benefit; firct, in his 
direct improvement, in the discipline of his mind and 
in the acquisition of knowledge; and secondly, by the 
employment of time which might otherwise hang 
heavily upon his hands, or be devoted to idle amuse- 
ments, which lead to worse than idle results. He would 
ah'O find himself, by such a course, removed from the 
worst temptations to which the young are exposed. Bad 
companionship in idle hours is the common way to ruin. 



52 LEISURE TIME. 



But he who is daily elevating his mind, by reading and 
study, will soon lose the taste for such companionship. 
He will find no pleasure in vulgarity or dissipation, and 
no sympathy 'with those who are guilty of them. He 
will avoid the bar-room and gambling table, as much 
through good taste, as through good principle. He will 
therefore at the same time feel less temptation to do 
wrong, and find greater enjoyment in doing right. 

To secure this result, however, he must add to his 
daily reading one book, which by many is thought old- 
fashioned, but which is not yet, thank God, out of print. 
It is the cheapest book in the world, and from whatever 
point of view we regard it, the best. It is the book, 
the Bible. Considered as history, it is the oldest and 
best authenticated ; considered as poetry, it is the no- 
blest, the most original and exalted ; considered as a 
system of morality, it is absolutely perfect; considered 
as religion, it is sufficient both for time and eternity. 

Set aside, if you please, all thought of its divine 
authority, and regaid it as you do other books, accord- 
ing to its intrinsic worth, and you will find that it de- 
serves frequent perusal and careful study. Yet I fear 
that many persons have almost no acquaintance with 
it, ex3ept that which, comes from the dim recollections 
of childhood. Its very sanctity repels them. But if 
they do not read it as the Revelations of God, and as a 
religious duty, it should be read for its own sake. 

The book of Proverbs contains enough practical wis- 
dom to carry any man successfully through the world. 
Seneca and Franklin cannot be read with one half the 
profit, even with regard to the conduct of this life alone. 
The young man who i eads a chapter of it every day, will 
find that folly and siti become an up-hill business. The 



LEISURE TIME. 53 



book of Job is a key to tbe mysteries'of Providence, as 
we see tbem all around us. The Prophecies, although 
obscure and difficult, fill the mind with pictures of 
Heavenly glory, and reveal to us the judgments of 
God. 

But above all, the New Testament, to those who 
know how to prize simplicity of style and grandeur of 
thought, is an inexhaustible fund of instruction and de- 
light. The character of Jesus Christ, if we could re- 
gard it simply as an historical fact, apart from its re- 
ligious bearing, is worthy of never-ending study. It is 
the only perfect character ever delineated. If it 
were a fiction it would be wonderful ; being true, it is 
miraculous. His words come to us, as a breathing from 
Heaven. His life opens to us an acquaintance with 
Heavenly existence. 

Yet I believe, that with the exception of those who 
have been led, by religious experience, to place their 
hopes of eternal life in the Gospel, there is no book 
which is estimated so far below its real and intrinsic 
merits as the Bible. I commend it to your reading, if 
not as a religious duty, as a means of self-education, 
for the refinement of your taste, and for the general 
elevation of your character. 

But consider it as a religious duty, and it still belongs 
to the work of self-education. He who hopes to attain 
the full development of his mind, or true manliness of 
character, without religious principle, is under a mis- 
take. Knowledge is very important; but one sin will 
degrade you more than a great deal of ignorance. So- 
briety, chastity, purity, and truth, are elements of 
growth to the mind, not less than to the heart. They 
ennoble a man in this world, while they prepare him 



54 LEISURE TIME. 



for the future; and these are the virtues which religion 
inculcates. It exalts us above all corrupting and im- 
pure associations, and therefore if considered only as a 
means of self-improvement in the present time, it 
should never be neglected. The irreligious man is in 
danger of becoming a low-minded and selfish man, even 
if he avoids being wicked. 

But I would not rest the cause of religion here. Not 
for a moment would I leave it upon so low a ground. 
It appeals to us and belongs to us, as immortal beings. 
It commands us to make the most of ourselves here, in 
mind, in heart and in life, because we must soon pass 
from Time to Eternity, carrying with us the result of 
our conduct here. In such a view how completely 
worthless do all earthly considerations seem? What 
matter whether we are rich or poor, learned or igno- 
rant, so that we are rich in good works, and wise unto 
salvation? 

But a part of our duty towards God, is to improve the 
talents committed to us, for the promotion of His glory 
and for usefulness among men. Infuse, therefore, into 
all your efforts for self- improvement a religious spirit. 
This will bestow dignity upon the employment, it will 
give steadfastness to your purpose, and crown your 
efforts with success. 



LECTURE IV. 



STransarcssion. 



Enter not into the path of the wicked, and go not in the way 
of evil men. Avoid it, pass not by it, .turn from it, and pass 
away. Proverbs iv: 14, 15. 

Not long ago, perhaps a year or more, I was accosted 
in the street by a man, whom at first I did not fully re- 
cognize. His voice, however, recalled him to my mind. 
I had not seen him for nearly two years, although we 
had both been living in the same city during all that 
time, and we had formerly been upon terms of intimate 
friendship. His hand was cold and tremulous ; he was 
not intoxicated, but his step was unsteady, like that of 
an old man, and his form slightly bowed, as if under 
the weight of three score years. His features were 
bloated, his eye dull and unsettled. He seemed unable 
to look steadily upon any object, and the expression of 
his face was like that of one suffering under some 
heavy care, or some great disappointment, that he was 
desirous to conceal. There was an effort to assume a 
hearty and cordial manner, and the grasp of the hand 
and the first words of greeting seemed like his manner 
of ten years before. But it was an effort that could 



56 TRANSGRESSION. 

not long be sustained. Assumed indifference and the 
evident sense of real mortifi ation soon took its place. 
His dress was shabby and carelessly worn, showing that 
the world had not dealt kindly with him. He seemed 
glad to see me, shook my hand again and again, as if 
he had forgotten each time that he had done it before; 
promised to come to my bouse, which, however, he evi- 
dently did not intend to do ; asked me to visit him, but 
although I promised it, he evidently supposed it would 
never be done, and seemed greatly relieved when the 
interview was ended. And so was I. But it left mat- 
ter upon my mind which occupied me many hours af- 
ter. His form kept coming back to me, an unbidden 
presence, reproaching me that I had not done more to 
save him from that sad condition. A few days afterward 
I went to see him at his room, and tried to renew our 
old acquaintance. I spoke to him earnestly and plain- 
ly, as I had often done before, and he promised, with 
tears in his eyes, that he would reform. Only a week 
afterward I again met him in the street, so intoxicated 
that he did not know me. And when two or three 
months had passed, I was called one day to see him on 
his dying bed, and then to follow him to an unhonored 
grave. 

"Was this the end to which he looked forward, when 
he first came to this city ? Was this the natural and 
right conclusion of a youth full of promise, of a man- 
hood which began with bright hopes and sanguine ex- 
pectations ? If, on the day when he left his father's 
house, " a younger son to go into a far country," the 
dream of such a future had visited him — the vision of a 
premature old age — of years spent friendless and des- 
pised — of the death-bed in an alms-house and the burial 



TRANSGRESSION. 57 



at public charge — if such a vision had come to him when 
he received his mother's blessing,or to her when she gave 
it, it would have been belter for them both to be strick- 
en down by the hand of death, than to look upon it. — 
Yet the reality came, and that which would have been 
too fearful to think of, became the history of his life. 

And how did it come ? By what avenues did the 
tempter find entrance into a heart rich in good affec- 
tions, into a mind well stored with good and pious 
thoughts ? I remember him now as he was, sixteen 
years ago, when he first came to this city. Among all 
whom I knew I <;ould not, perhaps, have selected one 
whose life seemed to give a more certain promise of an 
honorable and useful career. The glow of health was 
upon his check, his eye sparkled with the vigor of in- 
telligence, his step was firm, his whole manner was 
that of one who ha^ resolved to do a man's work man- 
fully. He was then but little more than twenty years 
of age, fresh from all the good influences of a Christian 
home in a quiet Christian community j unstained by 
the world's corruptions, ignorant of life's temptations. 
But his resolutions were so strong and his opportunities 
so good, that there seemed as little danger for him as 
for any one. How terrible the change that fifteen years 
produced. 

If I could trace that progress, step by step — if I 
could show how it was that his virtuous resolutions be- 
gan to yield, and the stain of corruption +o spread up- 
on his soul, it would be an instructive, although a sad 
narration. But the heart knoweth its own bitterness. 
We cannot enter into the hidden experience, one of an- 
other. We cannot tell how the temptation comes, even 
to ourselves, and we often fail to recognize its presence 



58 TRANSGRESSION. 

until we have yielded to its power. The influences of 
evil are working in the heart, long before they come to 
outward observation. When we begin to see them, the 
ruin is too often already accomplished. 

With regard to him of whom I have now spoken, I 
did not know when his steps began upon the downward 
road. He seemed to be prospering in business, for the 
first two or three years was found only in good compa- 
ny, and was evidently taking his place among men as 
a good and useful citizen. I have since thought, that 
perhaps his progress was so much more rapid than he 
had anticipated, and the position he held so much high- 
er, that he was deceived into a false security. Perhaps 
he thought himself already removed from danger, and 
that he might safely yield to temptation, a little way, 
without fear of falling. Soon after, some reverses in 
business occurred, which slightly embarrassed him, and 
some disappointments in social life which soured his dis- 
position. The habit of occasional conviviality, formed in 
the ti me of prosperity, now brought a feeling of relief 
and daily became stronger. His place at church was 
more frequently left vacant, and his place at the bar- 
room more frequently filled. He was not himself aware 
of any clanger, until, his business suffering more and 
more,he began to perceive that friends were falling away 
from him. Partly, by the sense of shame, and partly 
by the feeling that he was unjustly dealt with, he was 
led to acquaintance with those who were, in character 
and social position, far beneath him. Their influence 
upon him was in every way bad, Some of them were 
those determined drinkers, those veterans in the ranks 
of intemperance, who are scarcely ever intoxicated 
yet never sober, and who care very little how many 



TRANSGRESSION. 59 



others fall over the precipice, while they themselves re- 
main in comparative safety. Under their influence his 
decline was rapid, and soon ended in vain tears of re- 
pentance, in sadness and despair. 

It is a common story; a thing of every day's occur- 
rence. Since I began to speak, if you bave asked Your- 
selves whose history it is, if you have tried to remember 
some one to whom it would apply, you have probably 
thought of many whose career, although not identi- 
cally the same, has been equally sad. 

Perhaps none of those whom I address, know any- 
thing of the person to whom I have referred ; for the 
record of his name and of his burial-place have already 
passed from memory. But similar instances you bave 
all known, or may see every day going on towards the 
fatal, the inevitable conclusion. In conversation with 
a friend a few days since, who is himself still a young 
man, he informed me that more than half of the com- 
panions, wi ! h whoai he began his active life ten or 
twelve years since, have already come to a disgraceful 
death, or to a dishon >red and worthless life. Is it not 
dreadful to think of such things ? Is it not enough to 
frighten a young man from his self-confident security, 
to see how many of those who have gone before him, 
in the very same path, bave fallen never to rise agoin ? 
Has he a safe-conduct from some higher power, by vir- 
tue of which he may go to the brink of ruin, and re- 
turn uninjured ? Is it the mark of wisdom to risk 
every thing that makes life dear, health and friends, 
honor and usefulness, virtue and religion, self-respect 
and the favor of God, for the sake of those vulgar but 
enticing pleasures by which the young are so often be- 
trayed ? There is a warfare in which discretion is the 



60 TRANSGRESSION. 



better part of valor. Even if we gain the victory, we 
return without honor and without praise. " Therefore 
enter not into the path of the wicked, and go not in the 
way of evil men ,• avoid it, pass not by it, turn from 
it, and pass away." 

The paths which lead to ruin, although they gradually 
converge together and become the broad and fatal "way 
that leadeth to destruction," are at first very various. 
The first departures from virtue are very slight, the 
first habits of sin seem to be in themselves scarcely sin- 
ful. There is some pleasant name by which they are 
called, some plausible excuse by which they are allow- 
ed. But by a little pains, we can mark the principal 
stages by which the downward progress is generally 
made. 

First of all, is the intoxicating cup. With ninety- 
nine in a hundred, that is the beginning whose end is 
death. Those who begin with the strict rule of tem- 
perance, and who adhere to it, seldom throw themselves 
away in sinful pursuits. Generally speaking, if the 
young man can secure himself in this bulwark of safe- 
ty, all the enemies of his soul will be successfully re- 
sisted. His passions will remain under his own con- 
trol, unless they are heated by wine, and his eye clear 
to see the things which are for his own good, unless 
clouded by the fumes of strong drink. But when 
he has put an enemy within his mouth to steal 
away his brains, influences which a child should 
be strong enough to resist, become too strong for him, 
and he yields both body and soul to their power. He 
may think that it is very little he has taken, but a very 
little is enough to obscure tne judgment of a young 
head, and to pervert the desires of youthful blood. He 



TRANSGRESSION. 61 



may imagine that he was never more perfectly himsel f , 
his thoughts may seem to him more than usually clear, 
his step may have strength and buoyancy, there is just 
enough pleasant excitement to make his heart glad; 
but in all this he is prepared to say and do things, from 
which perfect sobriety would shrink, and of which the 
soberness of to-morrow's thought will be ashamed. 

Young men ! I would warn you from that sparkling 
cup — not only because it is a first step, which may lead 
you, as it has led, this very year now drawing to a close, 
fifty thousand in our own country, to a drunkard's 
grave — but I warn you from it, because even from the 
very first, it opens all the avenues of your heart, to the 
temptations under which sin is committed. There is 
scarcely a sin against which you need a warning, so 
long as the blood flows equally in healthy channels; but 
when it is quickened by tho liquid fire, the power of 
temptation is increased, while the strength to resist it 
is lessened. Sin puts on allurements which do not be- 
long to it, and by which its deformity is concealed. 
The quiet pleasures of a virtuous life appear tame in 
comparison, and the disordered imagination fills the 
chambers of guilt with illusions of beauty, which the 
experience of guilt will soon destroy. 

If it were, therefore, certain, that you could indulge 
yourselves with safety, so far as the danger of intem- 
perance is concerned, you would be exposing yourselves 
toother dangers equally as great. I appeal to you if 
this is not true. I ask you if you have not already 
gone far enough to know its truth ? Let it be granted 
that it is impossible for you ever to become a drunkard; 
have you not already experienced that, by the daily or 
occasional use of intoxicating drink, you expose your- 



2* 




€2 TRANSGRESSION. 

selves to many bad influences, from which you would 
otherwise escape, and commit many sins both in word 
and deed, which you would otherwise avoid? From 
what cause come wasted time and low companionship? 
What is it that betrays you into extravagance and fool- 
ish debt? By what means did you fall so easily into Sab- 
bath-breaking and profanity ? How did you learn to 
speak so lightly of religion and to laugh at the scruples 
of virtue? What influence has brought the sacred- 
ness of female innocence into contempt ; and how 
has it come to pass that instead of the nobler 
ambition of your early days, you are now so 
eager for pleasure, so greedy for excitement? Can 
you tell me ? Have you thought of this ? You feel 
very sure that you will never be a drunkard ; but are 
you equally sure, that the foundation of your virtue i s 
not already sapped, that the springs of your moral and 
religious life are not already corrupted? Make the 
trial. Begin this day and continue for twelve months, 
the plan of strict, absolute temperance, and you will be 
astonished to find how greatly the change of that one 
habit will change the tenor of your whole lives. You 
will have more time to yourselves; you will feel a 
greater desire of improvement ; the deformity of vice 
will appear more plainly, and the excellence of virtue; 
your nobler ambition to be a useful and honored man 
will return ; and before many months have passed you 
will be astonished to see how far upon the road to ruin 
you had gone, and how difficult it is, even now, to 
retrace your steps. If you doubt my words, make a 
trial of them for your own sake. It can certainly do 
you no harm, and if at the end of twelve months you 
find that you are neither better nor wiser for the exper- 



TRANSGRESSION. 63 



iment, it •will be easy to abandon it. But you will not 
find it so. Make tbe experiment for twelve months, 
and if you are capable of learning from experience, 
you will hold to it till the end of life. 

This view of the subject is very important, and needs 
to be carefully considered. Young men are every day 
ruined from the want of perceiving it. They convince 
themselves, as there is no difficulty in doing, that there 
is no danger of their ever becoming drunkards ; and 
having done this, they excuse themselves in the habit 
of daily drinking, as if no other harm could come from 
it. A great and fatal mistake. From the very begin- 
ning it does harm. If it is only an occasional glass, if 
it is only the glow upon the cheek and tbe quickened 
pulse, produced by indulgence in wine, at the supper 
table of a friend, it is a wrong done, an injury inflicted. 
The perceptions of virtue are made dull, the rebukes of 
a tender conscience are silenced by such a habit from 
the very first. When the hour of perfect sobriety 
comes, the young man blushes to remember the words 
spoken and the acts of freedom, of which he was guilty 
the night before. Consider this, I beg of you, and as 
you prize an unsullied conscience, let not the cup of 
intoxication come near your lips. 

But bow do you know that you are so safe ? How do 
you know that you can walk in the path which leads to 
intemperance and yet never reach its end? Who gave 
you that safe-conduct, by power of which you may go 
to the brink of ruin, and looking over gaze into that 
fiery gulf and then return uninjured? Uninjured, you 
cannot return. That is impossible. But how do you 
know that you will return at all ? Is it because you 
are so strong — because you are always able to do what 



64 TRANSGRESSION. 



you say you will do ? Men equally strong have fallen, 
and are falling, into that ruin every day. Is it because 
your motives to good conduct are so urgent on the one 
side, and because, on the other, you care so little for 
the intoxicating draught that you are sure you can 
give it up at any moment you please ? It is only the 
delusion of Satan. Trust not to it. Your relish for 
that hateful cup is becoming stronger, although you 
may not know it. It may soon become so strong as to 
be a craving of your nature. It will be not only a 
sinful habit, but a physical disease. Your resolutions 
become daily more weak, and the strong will gradually 
loses its power. The motives for good conduct may 
continue or may grow stronger as the danger increases; 
but what are motives, to him whose feverish blood 
craves the drink which has already set him on fire ? 
What to him are family and friends, or wife and chil- 
dren, or his own good name and self-respect, or health 
and life itself ? What to him is the hope of Heaven 
or the fear of hell ? The drink which he craves he 
must have, and although he hates it, " he will seek it 
again." 

Look at that man whose dress betokens that he is, 
or has been, a gentleman, and whose manners show 
that he is not yet quite brutalised. He staggers in the 
street, and because you have known him in his better 
days, you take his arm and, half supporting him, go 
with him towards his home. You hear his maudlin 
talk and look into his lack-lustre eye, and wonder if 
that can be the same man whom you knew a few years 
ago in the pride of manhoed, successful in business, 
beloved by his friends, honored by society. What mo- 
tive was wanting to keep him in the right path ? By 



TRANSGRESSION. 65 



what compulsion was he driven to a condition like this ? 
You go on with hitn, for it is not far, until you are 
near his house ; the effects of inebriation become 
stronger; he staggers so heavily that you can scarcely 
support him, and when he has come to his own door, it 
is with difficulty he stands. The door is opened, and 
what is it you then see? Do you talk of motives now? 
It is his wife and children who come forward to receive 
him. They know the whole truth ; for it has been so, 
many times before. His wife is still j'oung and beautiful, 
but you see that her beauty, which you remember as 
it was a few years ago, is fading away under the influ- 
ence of a wife's mortification and a mother's care. His 
daughter, already growing into womanhood, looks 
with half wonder and half disgust, and does what she 
is bidden to do, to help her father. The younger chil- 
dren gather round, but quickly see that no caress is 
waiting for them there. And this is the drunkard's 
home. Do you talk of motives now? Do you not see 
that the habit of intemperance is like the robe with 
which Hercules was betrayed to clothe himself, and 
which he could not tear off, because it clung to him, a 
burning and a raging fire, until he was dead? It is 
but an allegory of drunkenness, and the strong man 
who subdues the Nemean lion, is himself subdued, the 
victim of Intemperance. 

But let your contempt be mingled with pity for him 
whom you left but now, in his miserable home. The 
day has been when, in the very agony of his spirit, he 
knelt down and prayed to God, with vows that seemed 
registered in Heaven, and with tears streaming from 
his eyes, while he promised that he would never again 
yield to temptation. You would have had hope for 



66 



TRANSGRESSION. 



him then; but it lasted a few weeks, and the promises 
were broken. Merciful God ! who knowest the weak- 
ness of our nature and the deceitfulness of our hearts, 
keep us away from temptation; save us from the trials 
which may be too strong for our virtue. Leave us not 
to our own devices, but save us with a strong hand, and 
guide us by thy Spirit in the way of everlasting life ! 
And thou, young man, trifle not with your own soul. 
Pray that you may not be led into temptation. "Look 
not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth its 
color in the cup, when it moveth itself aright. At the 
last it biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder." 
But among those who hear me, are there not some 
whose minds suggest an answer to the appeal now 
made, and who, therefore, cannot feel its force? It is 
very well they may say, and it is right for you, as a 
minister of the Gospel, to speak in this manner and ad- 
vise us to keep out of temptation. We acknowledge 
the danger, and do not claim to be stronger than others 
who have fallen. You say that it is disgraceful for a 
young man to be a daily visitor at the bar-room, and 
we have often felt it to be so. But when we first went 
there, it was not of our own seeking. It was in per- 
formance of our duty. Our employers required it of 
us, or we knew that they expected it, and there was no 
way of avoiding it. Even now, it is a part of our 
regular employment to visit such places, in search of 
customers, or to carry them there, for the sake of 
keeping them in good humor and securing their pa- 
tronage. If, therefore, the habit grows upon us, and 
we learn to continue it for our own sake, we do not 
well see how to avoid it. We must either run the risk, 
or lose our places. 



TRANSGRESSION. 67 



What shall we say to this? I wish that it could be 
denied, as a slander against the good name of this 
community, but it contains too much truth. I have 
known it to be true in many instances. There are 
some houses, so I am credibly informed, that have a 
contingent fund to defray the expenses, incurred by 
their young men, in this miserable pursuit of business. 
In others, the same thing is done in a less systematic 
way, but quite as effectually, and there are compara- 
tively few in which it is absolutely forbidden. The 
young man is accounted valuable and receives pro- 
motion, in proportion to his success in bringing cus- 
tomers, and in selling to them large bills; although it 
is perfectly well known, by what arts of persuasion it 
is accomplished. A merchant said to me a few days 
since, "if it goes on in this way, every house will need, 
not only a buying partner, and a selling partner, and a 
counting-room partner, but a drinking partner, to 
make it successful." If that were all, I would not 
complain so much. If men would do this work for 
themselves, it would only be another instance of a 
man's endangering his soul for money; but to send the 
young and inexperienced upon this bad errand, is a 
wrong beyond endurance. There can be no sufficient 
excuse for it. If the continuance of trade requires it, 
then is trade an accursed thing, in which no hon- 
orable man should engage. The competition which 
leads to it is unmanly, and the prosperity gained by it 
is disgrace. But we do not believe it. We confidently 
deny the necessity of resorting to such means, under 
any circumstances. Every respectable merchant should 
positively prohibit their use ; and every respectable 
young man should positively refuse to be made the in- 



68 TRANSGRESSION. 



strument of pandering to the vices of others, at the 
risk of his own virtue. Some temporary loss may be 
incurred, by adhering to such principles ; but any loss 
is better than that of self-respect. Pardon me if I 
speak too plainly, and "he that hath ears to hear, let 
him hear." 

Another way to ruin is found in the violation of the 
Lord's day. I spoke, last week, of the wasted Sunday 
as a hindrance to self-improvement. I speak of it now 
as a sin, the consequences of which are ruinous to the 
soul. 

I am not what is commonly called a strict Sabbata- 
rian. My ideas concerning the Lord's day are nei- 
ther Jewish nor Puritan. "The Sabbath was made 
for man, not man for the Sabbath." Its superstitious 
observance either by the individual or by a community 
is not to be desired. Yet I have no doubt that the day 
was intended to be held sacred from the common uses 
of the week. If we are disposed to doubt this, expe- 
rience and observation will prove it. If you devote it 
to your ordinary occupations, as a working day, or to 
the pursuit of pleasure, as a holyday, it will become to 
you a frequent occasion of sin, and both your mind 
and your character will suffer. This is partly because 
we need the refreshment of occasional rest from our 
ordinary pursuits, and one day in seven is not too much. 
It is needed equally by the mind and the body. Our 
affections need it to prevent their becoming dull or 
morbid ; the judgment is mora healthy and the 
thoughts more clear by a respite from labor. The 
eagerness of social ambition is restrained, and the com- 
parative value of the different objects of pursuit, more 
justly discerned. 



TRANSGRESSION. 69 



This is the ordinary influence of the Lord's day, con- 
sidered as a day of rest from our common labors, and 
without regard to its religious uses. Nor is there a 
community on the face of the earth which needs its 
restorative influence more than our own. I have some- 
times thought, that if it were not for the Sabbath day, 
upon which we stop working, from motives of respecta- 
bility if from no other, one half of us would go crazy, 
through the restless eagerness of our industry. In the 
breathing time which Sunday gives, we recover the ex- 
hausted strength, and return to our work with a 
spirit somewhat chastened, and more free from un- 
healthy excitement. As business men, therefore, 
we lose nothing, but gain a great deal, by turn- 
ing away from ordinary pursuits and resting from 
them, one day in seven. There is no command of 
God's revealed word, which receives a more perfect 
confirmation from our own experience, than this : "Re- 
member the Sabbath day to keep it holy. 

If you will consider it as giving time and opportu- 
nity for religious improvement, its importance still 
more fully appears. It is the time for meditation, for 
serious reading and for prayer. I do not mean that 
every hour of it must be so used, but that this use of 
the clay should be prominent in our thoughts. None 
of us can safely dispense with it. Our religious pro- 
gress will be slow and our estrangement from God 
will become greater every day, unless some portion of 
the Sunday is regularly given to its religious uses. The 
young person who neglects these, has no reason to be 
surprised to find himself becoming more and mere ir- 
religious. If he sets any value upon religion, if he 
does not wish to free himself altogether from the re- 



70 TRANSGRESSION. 



straints which religion imposes, if he does not wish to 
make complete shipwreck of his religious hopes, then 
let him give a part of the Lord's Day to the house of 
prayer, a part of it to his Bible, and a part to serious 
reflection. This is not asking too much; it may seem 
too much, to those who have no higher object in life 
than to eat, drink, and be merry; but not to those who 
have any nobleness of character left, nor to those who 
believe that our chief duty here, is to prepare ourselves 
for the future. 

The profanation of the Lord's day to the purposes of 
amusement, seems almost to bring a special judgment 
upon those who are guilty of it. I do not mean by 
any outward punishment, but by the injury done to 
themselves, in their own moral and religious life. It 
generally precedes, if it does not mark, the decline of 
virtue and the growth of immorality. We aaay well 
be surprised at the extent to which this is true, until 
we look at the influences to which such a use of the 
day generally exposes us. It brings us into low asso- 
ciations. Sunday amusements are generally of a vul- 
gar kind, and must be enjoyed, if at all, in vulgar 
companionship. Those who are seeking for a better 
respectability will not join in them. They are kept 
away by regard to their reputation, if not by higher 
principles. If we seek them, therefore, our associates 
must be those who are more likely to relish vice than 
virtue, and whose influence upon us will be of the 
worst kind. The influences of the day, instead of be- 
ing the best, become the most pernicious of the whole 
week; instead of being consecrated to God, it is made 
the occasion of sin. We have no reason, therefore, 
to wonder at the evil result. By familiarity with 



TRANSGRESSION. 71 



vulgar scenes, by friendship with vulgar associates, by 
separating ourselves from refined and religious society, 
we may go downward just as rapidly as we please. 

Thus it is, that what is called Sabbath-breaking be- 
comes so great a sin. Thus, it often becomes the in- 
troduction to every vice, and to many young persons 
is the first step towards their ruin. It places them in 
a position where all the "fiery darts of the wicked" 
reach them. You may call the observance of the Lord's 
day a ritual observance, if you please, but it is in- 
separable from religion itself. It is inseparable from 
morality. If you neglect it, if you become a confirm- 
ed Sabbath-breaker, turning your feet away from the 
house of God, and devoting its hours to pleasure-seek- 
ing, your pleasures will soon become dissipation; even 
your respectability will be on the wane ; your ideas of 
right and wrong will be more and more unsettled, and 
your soul itself is lost. I commend it, therefore, 
young men, to your serious consideration. Do not set 
it aside as a mere usage, which in itself is neither right 
nor wrong. Use it well, and it will become to you in- 
deed the Lord's day, diffusing through the whole week 
a sanctifying influence, making your whole lives an 
acceptable service to Him. If you waste it or profane 
it, no one can measure the extent of the evil which may 
follow. Upon the Sabbath, therefore, even above all 
other days, remember ''not to enter into the path of 
the wicked, not to go in the way of evil men. Avoid 
it, pass not by it, turn from it, and pass away." 

Among the evil habits by which many young men 
are ruined, we must mention the sin of gambling. — 
It is a subject upon which I have had almost no oppor- 
tunity of observation. I must speak of it, therefore, 



72 TRANSGRESSION. 



•with diffidence, because, so far as facts are concerned, 
my knowledge goes but little way. But I am told by 
others, that the evil to which we now refer exists among 
us, to a great extent. I am told that it is a common 
habit among young men, both upon a small and a large 
scale. Occasionally I hear of those who lose more 
money in this way than they can afford ; and at longer 
intervals, some more marked instance comes before us, 
with a notoriety which ends in infamy, of those who 
have been betrayed bj the gaming table, into dishon- 
esty towards their employers and into their own ruin. 
"We also hear sometimes, but are almost unable to be- 
lieve it, that among the most respectable and influen- 
tial men, gambling is a usage, and that those who, by 
their position in society, ought to set an example of the 
strictest morality, are exciting hereby a fatal influence. 
For such things, although they may be done in a cor_ 
ner, are sure to go abroad. They become a part of our 
moral atmosphere. It is breathed by tho young man, 
whose principles are yet but imperfectly formed, and 
taints his moral nature. The necessity of virtue seem3 
less urgent, the hideousness of vice becomes less hate- 
ful. Tho responsibility which rests upon those who 
stand at the head of society, by whatever cause they 
are placed there, cannot be exaggerated. They would 
do well to consider it more maturely. If not for their 
own sake, then for the sake of those who look to them 
as an example, and in whose eyes they are making 
wickedness respectable, they should discountenance 
this, as well as every other form of social iniquity. 

But our business at present is with the young them- 
selves ; with those whose visits to the gambling table 
have, as yet been few, and who have not yet experienc- 



TRANSGRESSION. 73 



ced its worsb influence. If the habit is already confirm- 
ed, they are probably beyond the reach of our influ- 
ence; for of all sinful habits, there is none whose en- 
ticements are so alluring to those who have taken the 
first step, none which binds around its votary, cords 
more difficult to be broken. "We address ourselves also 
to those, by whom the first step has not yet been taken. 
Upon them, chiefly, an influence may be exerted. With 
all the earnestness we are capable of using, we implore 
them to keep away from the gaming table. As they 
love their souls, a3 they value their peace of mind, yes, 
as they prize their common respectability in the world, 
let them keep away. 

The evils of gambling are so many, that I scarcely 
know how to enumerate them. First, and unavoidably, 
it leads the young man into the worst of company. — 
The game of chance is a complete leveler. For a time 
there may be a vain effort of exclusiveness, but it will 
not continue long. Very soon he is upon terms of inti- 
macy with those whom he despises, and who despise or 
hate him in return. Again, from the very first, an un- 
healthy excitement is produced, not so much an ex. 
citement, as a fever of the mind. It often grows to a 
delirium, under which all self-control is lost, an intox- 
ication worse than that of drunkenness itself. It is at 
such times that one is betrayed into dishonesty, when 
he stakes upon the turn of a card, money which he 
must dishonestly steal , before he can honorably pay. — 
He scarcely knows what he is doing; when it is done, 
he is as much astonished as we are to hear of it; but 
it is then too late. A step taken upon that road, is fol- 
lowed by another and another, until discovery and ruin 
overtake him. 



74 TRANSGRESSION. 



To the beginner at the gaming table, the intoxicating 
cup is always made an adjunct of the evil, and thus 
one temptation is increased by the other. The confirmed 
gambler, indeed, is shrewd enough to keep himself so- 
ber. If he drinks freely, it is because he has inured 
himself by long habit, so that he does not feel its in- 
fluence,* but generally, he takes only enough to lead 
others beyond their depth. A confirmed gambler, 
therefore, is seldom a drunkard. But with the tyro it is 
quite different. He lacks nerve for his new employ- 
ment. He feels a little ashamed of himself; he is act- 
ing a part which he is not used to; he feels timid and 
hesitates; and for all such feelings, wine is a panacea; 
or by some beverage more ingeniously contrived, he is 
soon brought to a degree of self-confidence which makes 
him feel quite at home. How great doe3 the peril now 
become ! He goes downward at an increasing pace. — 
Later in the evening, he returns homeward with a fe- 
verish brain, but with a heart already heavy as lead, 
and on the morrow, curses the day on which he was 
born. 

Again, the habit of gambling, whether on a large or 
small scale, develops the worst feelings of a man's na- 
ture. It makes him cold and selfish, and distrustful. 
He learns to hate those whom he calls his friends, for 
their gain is continually his own loss. He regards them 
with suspicion, accuses them of unfairness, thinks that 
they are over-reaching him and endeavors to over-reach 
them in return. Under such a discipline all frankness 
of character gives way; all scrupulousness of conscience 
disappears ; mean and tricky subterfuges are resorted 
to, and each one becomes guilty of that, of which he 
suspects the other. A great deal is said about debts of 



TRANSGRESSION. 75 

honor, but the principal debt is that incurred in one's 
own sou! by the loss of honor itself. 

["The purchase of lottery tickets is one of the worst 
species of gambling which any man or woman ever 
engaged in. It has all the temptations and excite- 
ments, and offers more inducements than the Faro Bank 
or the Roulette Table. There are but few persons who 
have engaged in the purchase of lottery tickets that hare 
not continued to pursue it, and with many it becomes a 
passion as fearful as any in the catalogue. It is tempt- 
ing, because it requires but a small sum to commence, 
and the drawing of one or two numbers is sufficient to 
lure the victim on. The excitement is great, from the 
amount of gain in prospect, and the duration of the 
suspense. At the gambling table, the money is down, 
the stake must bear some proportion to the amount to be 
won, and a few turns of the cards, or throws of the dice, 
decide it. But not so in this lottery business. A dollar, 
or a few dollars, invested in lottery tickets, will, if suc- 
cessful, enrich the holder with as many or more thou- 
sands. From the moment of the purchase until the an- 
nouncement of the result of the drawing, he or she, as 
the caso may be, lives in a state of painful and improper 
excitement. At one moment, golden visions dance be- 
fore the distempered brain, and fancy pictures the pos- 
session of thousands ; the next, all is lost, and the holder 
is the victim of every species of ill-fate and misfortune. 

There are two classes of the community who are pe- 
culiarly susceptible to the influence of this evil excite- 
ment, and upon whom the reports of special good fortune, 
on the part of a few, are calculated to have a most perni- 
cious influence. They are the young and females. They 
are both desirous cf the enjoyment of wealth, indepen- 



76 TRANSGRESSION. 



dence, and fortunes. They are susceptible of the influ- 
ence which such reports carry with them. They can see 
no reason why they may not he as lucky as anybody 
else, and, once in the vortex, they are ruined. A failure, 
or partial success, but induces further trials ; and thus 
they go on, step by step, until their money is exhausted, 
their honor and everything sacrificed, to a depraved and 
unreasonable passion."*] 

In what I am now saying, I again acknowledge that 
I speak from theory more than from observation. In 
these departments of life, my opportunities of observ. 
ing are very small. But the little I have seen, inter- 
preted under the general principles of human nature, 
justifies all that has been said. If so, my appeal cannot 
be too earnestly made. Keep away from the gambling 
table. Nay, keep away from the places where it is 
spread. Do not by your presence there give counten- 
ance to that great iniquity. Do not, for the sake of a 
transient pleasure, suffer your name to be enrolled 
among those who are guilty of this sin. Even if you 
refrain from it yourself, you are giving your patronage 
to those who live by it, and you are thereby committing 
a grave and serious offence against society. Do not an- 
swer that you must have some amusement. It is not so 
needful, that you must commit sin or endanger your 
virtue in its pursuit. Let your hearts be set upon 
something better than amusement, upon self improve- 
ment and a useful life, and yoa will find ways of re- 



* The above extract is taken from the leading Editorial of the 
St. Louis Republican, Nov. 20, and i3 here introduced, although 
not in the Lecture delivered, as indispensable to the subject dis- 
cussed. 



TRANSGRESSION. 77 



creation without entering " upon the path of the wick- 
ed, or going in the way of evil men.'* 

My time is already more than exhausted, and with it 
my own strength, and I fear yovj patience. Yet there 
is one other topic upon which I must speak, hef or clos- 
ing. It is a subject the most difficult of all, requiring 
at the same time plainness and delicacy in its treatment. 
I must trust to your own thoughts to supply my defi- 
ciency ; and to your own love of virtue, that a right di- 
rection to your thoughts may be given. 

" So dear to Heaven is saintly chastitt, 
That, when a soul is found sincerely so, 
A thousand liveried angels lackey her, 
Driving far eff each thing of sin and guilt ; 

But when lust, 

By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk, 
But most by lewd and lavish act of sin, 
Lets in defilement to the inward parts, 
The soul grows clotted by contagion, 
Embodies and imbrutes, till she quite lose 
The divine property of her first being." 

When speaking upon the same subject, Solomon asks 
" can a man take fire in his bosom and his clothes not 
be burnt ? can one go upon hot coals and his feet not 
be burnt?" Again, the apostle Paul says, "know ye 
not that your bodies are the members of Christ ? Shall 
I then take the members of Christ, and make them the 
members of a harlot ? God forbid ! What, know ye not 
that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit which 
is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your 
own ? If any man defile the temple of God, him shall 
God destroy; for the temple of God is holy; which tem- 
ple ye are." In hearing such words we feel that our 
bodies are sacred, and that we have no right to profane 



78 TRANSGRESSION. 



them by the defilement of sin. We should avoid im- 
purity of thought and of action, as we avoid contagion 
and death. No grave for the soul can he dug so deep? 
as that in which it is buried by licentiousness. 

Of all the influences in society, calculated to purify 
and elevate man's character, that of virtuous and well 
educated women is perhaps the strongest. From the 
hallowed precincts of the domestic circle, it drives away 
all sinful pleasure; in the intercourse of social life, it 
makes virtue attractive and sin hateful. It touches 
the soul to its gentler issues, and bestows a grace upon 
whatever is noble inhuman ilfe. An essential part of 
the education of a young man is in woman's society. 
He needs it as much as he needs the education of books, 
and its neglect is equally pernicious. Every one knows 
that it is a good trait in a young man, to be fond of la- 
dies' society. I do not mean, to become what is techni- 
cally called a ladies' man, which is very frequently 
another term for foppishness, and effeminacy, and by 
which marly make themselves objects of just contempt 
but we mean that he who can enjoy the refined pleas- 
ure, which comes from female society, is not likely to 
enjoy himself in the haunts of dissipation. 

But in proportion as she exerts a good and purifying 
influence, when well educated and virtuous, her influ- 
ence becomes pernicious, if her character is perverted. 
When frivolous or heartless, shu turns many from 
good; when wicked, she is the most successful minis- 
ter of ruin. The best things perverted, become 
the worst. Take from the air we breathe, one 
of its component parts, and a single breath of it causes 
death. Take from woman's character her love and 
practice of virtue, and her presence becomes death to 



TRANSGRESSION. 79 



the soul. He who betrays her from her innocence, is 
not less hateful in the eyes of God, than the serpent 
■who brought sin into Paradise. He who is upon terms 
of friendship with her, after she is betrayed, unless 
for the purpose of restoring her to virtue, is helping her 
to sink lower in her degradation, and himself goes 
down with her, to the gates of hell. 

How does such an one dare to come from the scenes 
of iniquity, to the society of the pure and good. How 
does he dare to touch the hand of her whose face ex- 
presses the beauty of innocence ? As when Satan stood 
among the sons of God, we say to him, "whence coni- 
est thou," and what place have you here ? His own 
sense of shame should keep him away ; or if he comes 
he should be driven away with scorn. I know that it 
is in part woman's own fault, for very often when she 
knows full well, whence he cometh, she welcomes him 
with smiles ; but in doing so she is a traitor to her own 
sex, and stains her own purity. It is disgraceful to so- 
ciety that men, for whose description every English 
word is too vulgar, and over whose conduct a veil is 
thrown by calling them u roues," should be admitted 
even in the highest circles upon equal terms, yes, and 
often upon better terms* than honest and honorable 
men. 

Young men ! I would speak to you upon this sub- 
ject, even more earnestly, if I dared. I commend it to 
your own thoughts. He who loses his respect for 
woman and his veneration for woman's virtue, is sink- 
ing very fast ; he is traveling very rapidly towards 
ruin. I appeal to each one of you, therefore, by the 
love which you bear to your own mother, or by the 
sacredness of her memory; by the tender affection 



80 TRANSGRESSION. 



■which you feel for your own sisters, and by the indigna- 
tion which would fill your hearts, if any one were to 
approach them with an impure word or look; I appeal 
to you by the respect which you cannot help feeling 
for the innocence and purity of womanhood ', to keep 
your own purity of character and to avoid this worst 
contamination of sin. 

Alas, how many are the dangers that threaten you ! 
What watchfulness, what energy of purpose do you 
need : The ground upon which you stand is enchanted. 
Perils and snares are around you. 



Beware of all, guard every part, 
But most, the traitor iu your heart. 



"Wherewithal shall the young man cleanse his way ? 
by taking heed thereto, according to Thy word. Enter 
not into the path of the wicked, and go not in the way 
of evil men. Avoid it ,• pass not by it : turn from it, 
and pass away." 



LECTURE V. 



®l)e lUat)0 of tUiairom. 



And when he came to himself, he said, I will arise and go to 
my Father, and will say unto him, Father I have sinned against 
Heaven and before thee. And he arose and came to his Father. 
—Luke xv : 18, 20. 

From my choice of these words, as a text, it might 
naturally be supposed that I intend to speak only of 
those, who have wandered far from the right path, 
aud whose danger is already imminent. The young 
man in the parable " went to a far country," by which 
is indicated the degree of his iniquity ; his living was 
quite wasted, and all his means of self-support quite 
gone, before he came to himself. Then, when his 
unworthiness was complete, and there was no other to 
whom he could turn, he said, u I will arise and go t° 
my father;" scarcely hoping indeed to be received, 
but having no other hope to save him from despair. 

How perfectly true to nature, when all other 
friends deserted him, that he turns himself to the 
home of his childhood, seeking forgiveness first from 
those whom he has most injured. It is the father's 
house and the mother's love, to which we turn as 



82 THE WATS OF WISDOM. 

a sure haven of rest, when the world treats us 
unkindly. It is there that we are most sure to 
find acceptance, however great our ill-desert. Al- 
though sinful and degraded, friendless and outcast, 
we are sure of a welcome there. Nor is there a pang 
which the world's worst treatment can inflict, so severe 
as this thought, that in spite of all our errors, in spite 
of all our ingratitude, in spite of all our heartless dis- 
obedience, a welcome is ready for us there, whenever 
we will return; that a fond mother will find excuses 
for us through the greatness of her love, and hope for 
us through the greatness of her faith; that the father, 
although he may seem more stern, is ready, whenever 
he sees us returning, to come out and meet the penitent, 
'to fall upon his neck and kiss him." Such is a parent's 
love; so great is a parent's forbearance. If it had not 
been for his confidence in this, must there not have been 
times when the weight of his sins would have crushed 
the prodigal; when the degree of his unworthiness 
would have driven him to despair ? But the remem- 
brance of that love which no ill-desert could estrange, 
awakened hope for himself, and drew him back again 
to the paths of virtue. 

How precious, therefore, to our souls, should be that 
gospel, which reveals the Almighty God, whom 
we have offended, as the Father who is in Heaven ! 
What hopes are excited by that word, while at the 
same time, the greatness of our sin is made more fully 
to appear! For, in proportion to the long-suffering of 
those whom we offend, is our wickedness in offending 
them. But still that precious hope returns, and if ne 
whom we have chiefly offended is most ready to forgive, 
we will yet arise and g© to our Father and say unto 



THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 83 

him, "Father we have sinned against Heaven and be- 
fore Thee." 

But need we wait until we have wandered so far? 
May we not feel the truth of all I have said, even when 
our steps have gone but a little way from the Father's 
house? Must we wait until the soul is buried under sin 
before we attempt to rise from it? Must he who feels 
the power of disease taking hold upon him, wait until 
the whole body is corrupted and the strength nearly 
gone, before he appeals to the physician? What then 
must be the consequence, but fatal disease and death? 
If I understand the scriptures, salvation is needed by 
those who have gone but a little way in sin, as well as 
by those who are reaching its furthest limit. The 
peril may not seem to be as great, but the saving power 
is equally needed. In both cases, the principle of life 
is wrong and a radical change is therefore required. 

,The weeds which are springing up in a cultivated 
garden may seem to be insignificant, and a few mo- 
ments' care would remove them ; but small as they 
now are, they contain already the elements of mischief. 
Give them time to grow,and it is all they need. Their 
roots strike deeper, they gather to their own pernicious 
uses the strength of the soil ; they grow up rapidly, 
overshadowing and stunting the growth of the wor- 
thier plant, and coming to an early maturity, they scat- 
ter the seeds of increasing mischief. The wind dis- 
perses them abroad, until, in a few years, the whole 
garden has lost its fruitfulness, and the neighboring 
fields are also ruined. Theu, if you would eradicate 
those weeds, which a year ago were so insignificant, 
you must strike the plow deep, and turn their roots up 
to the light of Heaven; and years of patient industry 



84 THE WATS OF WISDOM. 

will be needed before you rid yourselves of the evil. Is 
it not better to pull them up when they are but few 
and their hold upon the soil feeble ? They are evil 
now, is it not better to prevent them from becoming 
the parent of greater evil ? But remember that 
whenever you take them in hand, precisely the 
same process is needed for their effectual remo- 
val. You may pull them up as with your fingers, or 
the ploughshare may be required for the work; but, in 
either case, they must be pulled up. To trample upon 
them or to cut them down will not do; the root is still 
there, and will spring up again. To scatter good seed 
among them is not enough; for there is danger that the 
weeds will grow up fastest, and "choke the good 
seed," even as it has been from the beginning. It 
may be only the sin of occasional Sabbath-breaking; it 
may be only that slight degree of dissipation which 
is softened by the name of wildness or youthful folly; 
it may be only tb.9 habit of profanity, by which no 
great harm is intended, and of which, although we may 
acknowledge that it is a proof of bad manners, we 
are not willing to acknowledge that it is an evidence of 
a bad heart; or it may be any other of those thousand 
forms in which sin makes its first entrance into the un- 
guarded heart; but the sentence is still the same — they 
must be rooted out, they must be pulled up from the 
soil, if we would secure our safety. That little fire 
which sin is kindling in the soul, may at first seem 
only to diffuse a gentle warmth and to bestow upon all 
the faculties an increased vigor; but see to it, or it will 
become a raging and tormenting flame, consuming 
even your desire of goodness. It is better to put it 
out. Extinguish it while you can. It is an easy work 



THE WATS OF WISDOM. 85 

now, but by and by nothing but the miracles of God's 
love can enable you to accomplish it. 

There is something very pleasant, very encouraging 
in the scriptural expression, ** when he came to him- 
self." It recognises the fact that there is abetter na- 
ture within us than that which sin develops. We are 
not wholly of the earth, a part is also from Heaven ,• 
as it is written, " God created man and made him in 
his own image." It is true, that by our own sinful- 
ness, and through the wicked inventions of the world, 
His image is partially effaced, or covered over by so 
thick a veil of the earth's pollutions, that it is scarcely 
discerned ; but yet it remains there, never completely 
lost, never hidden beyond the hope of being again re- 
stored. That heavenly image is the better self. It is 
of God, yet it is our ov*n. By virtue of it, we claim 
alliance with God, and brotherhood with Christ. If 
it were utterly lost, salvation would be impossible. 
The greatest sinner whom Christ ever redeemed, 
when he arises from the deadly sleep and awakens 
to righteousness, does but come to himself. In 
the furthest land, destitute and hungry, feeding 
the swine which belong to a stranger, desiring 
to share with them in their food, friendless and utterly 
degraded, he says, I will arise; he comes to himself, 
and at the same time looks upward to his God. We 
know how deadly are the sins of which the human soul 
is capable. We know how fearful its wickedness be- 
comes. We know its waywardness, its ingratitude, its 
rebellion against God. But we thank God that there is 
still a better self to which the sinner may return. 
man, my brother, in the very hopelessness of iniquity 
does not that thought bring hope? Thou art not all de- 



86 



THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 



thou art not yet utterly depraved ; scarred and 
disfigured, changed from all the beauty which was 
once thine own, something of the divine lineaments 
yet remain in thy soul. There is yet a better self. — 
Eeturn to it; in the strength which God will give, if 
you ask hra — say, "I will arise and go to my Father." 

But, we again ask, why should we wait until the 
hour of extreme want, before we return to the Father's 
house? why should we wait until our best affections are 
seared» and the purity of our souls quite lost, and our ca- 
pacity for improvement impaired, before we recognize 
our true good? Do we need that the lesson should be so se- 
verely taught, before we will learn it? Should it not be 
enough to know that the road leads in a wrong direc- 
tion, to induce us to leave it? Must we go to the very 
end, and only when ruin stares us in the face, be wil- 
ling to retrace our steps ? Then we shall return, if at 
all, way-worn andhiggard, weary of the world, woun- 
ded in the conflict with sin, with hearts so full of sad- 
ness that we can scarcely find room for rejoicing, and 
even the hope of God's mercy will be mingled with 
fears. Now we are choosing the direction of life, and 
it requires only one strong resolution, one earnest pray- 
er, to make the direction right. Or if we have already 
gone a little way in the wrong path, the vigor of youth 
and the strength of manhood remain,and although some 
time has been lost, we may yet redeem it ; although 
some stain has been brought upon our souls, the tears 
of repentance will quickly wash it off, and we shall be 
restored to self-respect and virtue. 

Consider this, young men? and ponder these words 
with care. If I appeal to you so earnestly, it is not be- 
cause I suppose that you have already reached that far 



THE WATS OF WISDOM. 87 



country of deadly sin and remorse, but that you may 
save yourselves from it. 

I would show you that this flowery path, in which yon 
are walking, is wrong in its diroction, although pleas- 
ant for the time. Is there not a struggle already 
going on in your hearts, between the higher and lower 
principles of your nature ? It is the great conflict, the 
struggle of life and death. Let the whole energy of a 
strong will be thrown into it, and the victory will be 
for God and your own souls. Wait not until evil has 
become the habit of your lives, a second nature scarce- 
ly to be changed ; but prevent the formation of sinful 
habits, now while it can be so easily done. Keep your- 
selves from bad influences, surround yourselves with 
the safeguards of virtue. It is often better to avoid 
temptation than to overcome it. The sight of evil 
sometimes leaves in the mind thoughts and images, 
which are better not to be there. It is for this reason 
that I speak so earnestly, as if it were, as I believe it 
is, a matter of infinite moment. Experience and ob- 
servation both tell us, that the elements of the same 
nature are in us all. lie that has gone furthest from 
his God went, one step at a time, as perhaps we aro 
going now. The lowest degradation of the worst man 
living, is only the result of the same wayward ten- 
dencies, to which we are perhaps sometimes yielding; 
of the same bad passions, which we perhaps sometimes 
indulge. I know that the evil has not yet come in its 
full force, but honestly speaking, do wo not discern its 
possibility? Have we not had enough experience of 
evil in our own hearts, have we not actually done 
enough in our own lives, to justify the fear of its in- 
definite increase ? What then is the course of wisdom? 



88 THE WATS OF WISDOM. 

Is it not to stop now, while it is easy to stop ? Is it not 
to change the direction of life, before life itself is al- 
most wasted ? 

A mistake is often made in thinking of salvation as 
something which belongs to the future world alone, 
and not at all to the present. Life is represented as if 
it were only a preparatiou for that beyond the grave. 
We forget that it has its own absolute duties. It should 
have in itself a completeness; it should be in itself a 
service of God. We have a work to do for ourselves, 
for each other, and for the glory of God, which must 
be done here. Even if we were sure of ultimate sal- 
vation, the neglect of this present work is a great evil 
and a great sin. It is a wrong committed against God, 
against humanity, against our own souls. Even if we 
escape from its worst consequences, by repentance be- 
fore we die, it is a wrong in itself, which it is the part 
of wisdom to avoid. I shall ask you, therefore, in 
what remains of my present discourse, to look at the 
duties of life from this point of view. Let us consid- 
er our life here, not as being only a preparation for 
the future, but as being something in itself. Its du- 
ties, its relations, its joys and sorrows, its virtues and 
sins, are a present reality. To do our part here well 
and manfully, is something worth doing. As, there- 
fore, with reference to the future life and to the great 
salvation, we speak of the "means of grace," by which 
redemption is obtained; so with reference to the pres- 
ent life, we speak of the means of improvement, the 
human safeguards of virtue. Theso must be used, if 
we would make the best of our own faculties and of 
life itself. We must exercise good sense in our plans 
of life, and place ourselves under the influences which 



THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 89 

favor goodness and discourage sin. Some of these in- 
fluences we shall now consider. 

The first condition of good health, is to breathe a 
good atmosphere. If with every breath the sced3 of 
disease are brought to the lungs or the heart, the body 
will soon show the baneful effect, in the loss of its 
vigor and strength. The influence may be very sub- 
tle, but it is all the more irresisible. So in the forma- 
tion of character — for the preservation of health to 
the mind and the affections, to maintain the purity of 
our moral nature, the moral atmosphere must be pure. 
The associations into which we are daily brought, must 
be favorable to virtue. The society in which we daily 
live, must be of a kind to elevate the character. 

It is an old proverb, that "a man is known by the 
company he keeps." This is true, for two reasons 
first, because, as like seeks like, our real tendencies 
are shown by the sort of company we enjoy. If it is 
yulgar and dissipated, our seeking it proves that we 
have a relish for vulgarity and dissipation. The man 
of pure feeling and refined taste does not feel at home 
in such companionship; it gives him no pleasure and 
he avoids it, as he would avoid anything else disagree- 
able. When, therefore, we see a person frequently in 
such company, it is a fair and just inference that he is 
there because he likes it, and therefore that he is him- 
self of the same sort. The proverb is true for another 
reason. A man is known by the company he keeps, 
because however different from it he may be at first, he 
will gradually become like it, almost whether he will 
or no. "We are moulded by the society in whkji we 
live, more than by any other influence. It is the at- 
mosphere by which we are surrounded, it is the breath 



90 THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 

which sustains life itself. The good man, who goes 
among the wicked for the purpose of instruotihg and 
reclaiming them to the path of virtue* needs to be care- 
ful, lest his own moral nature become tainted by the 
contact. Even in his endeavors to cure them, as some- 
times with the physician who cures disease, while he 
is engaged in his work of mercy the contagion may 
reach his own heart. Even under such circumstances, 
we need the disinfectant of God's grace to secure us 
from evil. But when we enter into wicked or irreli- 
gious society for the sake of its companionship; when 
we seek our friends there in the enjoyment of social in- 
tercourse; however pure we may be at our entrance, 
our doom is already sealed, and the loss of innocence 
and virtue is the unavoidable result. 

How can we retain our veneration for God and for his 
glorious majesty, if our ears are every moment filled 
with the profanation of His nam« ? How can we think of 
Christ as our redeemer, when the name of Jesus is a by- 
word,coupted with every Btale jest, and bandied about, in 
anger or in sport, by those whom ho died to save ? How 
can we keep any sacredness of thought, any respect 
for religion — the strong hope of Heaven or the fear of 
hell — if everything sacred is made the subject of ridi- 
cule, or spoken of with careless contempt, by those 
with whom we have the daily intercourse of friend- 
ship ? How can we keep before us the necessity of 
virtue, the infinite value of the soul, the infinite evil 
of sin, if we are daily living among those who suffer 
no scruples of virtue to interfere with their pleasures, 
and who can always find an excuse for sin if it is prof- 
itable? Let jour own observation of the world, let 
your own experience of life, answer. The instances 



THE WATS OF WISDOM. 91 

are so few, where young men have placed themselves 
under the influence of bad companionship and escaped 
its contamination, that they scarcely need to be consid- 
ered. They are exceptions to a rule which is almost 
universal. The young man may deceive himself. At 
first, he may suppose that his principles are not cor- 
rupted ; that he enjoys the companionship, its laughter 
and its fun, without partaking of its evil spirit. Ho 
may flatter himself that the evil which ho hears and 
sees, only makes him love virtue morej but he is only 
deceiving himpelf. When the Apostle Paul speaks of 
wicked men and their sins, he thus describes them : 
"Who not only do such things, but have pleasure in 
them that do them." To take pleasure in the company 
of the wicked, is but one step from being wicked our- 
selves. As a natural and almost inevitable conse- 
quence, the word of blasphemy will soon come from 
our own lips j the cup of intoxication will soon be in 
our own hands; the cards and the dice will bring the 
fever to our hearts, and the paths of dissipation will 
become as familiar to our feet, as they are to those of 
our companions. Is not this the natural result ? Ac- 
cording to the laws of the human mind, by the natural 
working of our affections, ought we not to expect it ? 
Is it not the actual result, of which your own observa- 
tion could bring an hundred proofs, and to which your 
own experience is perhaps adding one proof more ? 

We again say that the society in which we live is the 
moral atmosphere wo breathe. If it is bad, there is 
but one way of escaping its bad influence — namely, to 
change it. A method of cure which requires strong 
resolution, but there is no other. Change it, if need be, 
by withdrawal at first from all society, and gradually 



92 THE WATS OF WISDOM. 

obtain the friendship of those whom you can respect, 
instead. The change may require resolution, and will 
also be attended with difficulties. Those whom you 
leave will place every obstruction in your way, but if 
you act, not in a self-righteous and hypocritical man- 
ner, but with frankness and gentlemanly courtesy, 
even your old companions will respect you more, and 
some of them, perhaps, accompany you in the better 
path. I am inclined to think that whole companies of 
young men sometimes continue in the road to ruin, only 
for the want of two or three in their number, who have 
resolution enough to say, " we will stop ; we will go no 
further; we will abandon this course of life; we will 
live as gentlemen and Christians ought to live." Let 
a few say this, quietly but firmly, and the hearts of 
many will respond. The truth is, that all have been 
half ashamed of themselves for a long time, and have 
been hurried forward by each others' example, each 
one wanting the resolution, rather than the disposition 
to stop. Let that resolution be shown by a few, and 
others will be strengthened thereby, and perhaps the 
progress of all be stayed. But whether such a result 
follow or not, the duty of the individual is the same. 
If he feels within himself the strength to stop, let him 
use it. Let him withdraw from the associations in 
which his own virtue is corrupted and in which he is 
corrupting the virtue of others. It is not a matter of 
expediency only; it is not for the sake of respectability 
alone, or of obtaining a better position in society, al- 
though this would be in itself motive enough to a 
thoughtful man ; but it is the question of virtue or 
vice ; it is the alternative between a life well spent or 
utterly lost. 



THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 93 

We say, therefore, to the young man who has been 
brought, either by circumstances beyond his control or 
by his own choice, into the society of uneducated or 
vulgar or dissipated companions, that the sooner he 
frees himself from such influences the better, and that 
he must free himself so >n, or he will be under the ser- 
vitude of sin forever. Still more earnestly we say to 
those who have not yet entered into such companion- 
ship, keep away from it as you would avoid the 
contagion of disease, the corruption of iniquity. It 
may have its allurements; its fascinations may be 
many to the young and thoughtless ; the sin commit- 
ted may at first seem small; but it is the companion- 
ship itself that brings the danger, and as you value the 
purity, nay, the salvation of your souls, it should be 
avoided. So long as we are in the company of the 
good, goodness is easy. Choose your companions well; 
among those who have correct views of life, who respect 
religion, who a^oid the paths of dissipation, and a vir- 
tuous life will be so pleasant that you will desire no 
other. This is the great safe-guard of virtue. The 
best of us are not strong enough to dispense with it ; to 
the young and inexperienced it is everything. Partic- 
ularly in their ungarded and leisure hours, when they 
seek for amusement and recreation from toil, let the 
companionship in which they share be good. For, as 
the unwholesome air is most fatal to the body when 
asleep, so is the contagion of bad example most fatal, 
when the mind rests from its serious occupations, and 
throws itself » in ungarded repose, upon the influences 
which surround it. Then it is that the excellence of 
virtue or the deceitfulness of sin prevails over us, ac- 
cording to the company in which we are. We should 



94 THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 

select it, therefore, with such views, that while we gain 
refreshment for the mind, our love of virtue may he 
strengthened, our tastes refined, and our desires of good- 
ness confirmed. 

The kindness with which you have thus far heard 
me, and upon which I have already encroached hy un- 
usual plainness of speech, will perhaps allow me to 
speak of another subject, upon which judicious advice 
is sometimes needed. One of the best rules for the 
preservation of virtue, and for keeping ourselves 
away from temptation is to avoid extravagance, to keep 
out of debt. Economy is a word which, to the majority 
of young persons, conveys the idea of meanness. It 
should rather convey the idea of independence. We 
would not check the youthful feeling of generosity. 
We would be among the last to inculcate meanness, nor 
is there any one to whom a niggardly and parsimoni- 
ous young man is more disagreeable than to me. Such 
a character in the young is against nature. At first 
sight, extravagance itself seems more excusable. But 
on the other hand, extravagance is a sort of dishones- 
ty ; to live beyond one's income often degenerates into 
the worst meanness ; to owe money that we cannot pay, 
drives one to subterfuges and unmanly evasions, of 
which no one can help being ashamed. Debt is a kind 
of servitude, under which it is hard to retain the more 
manly virtues of freedom. Under its influence, our 
own self-respect is very apt to be diminished. It is 
mortifying to acknowledge even to ourselves that there 
are men whom we are almost afraid to meet, and to 
whom we have given the right to treat us in a manner 
to hurt our feelings. The creditor who demands pay- 



THE WATS OF WISDOM. 95 

ment, and the debtor who is unable to make it, are sel- 
dom upon equal terms. 

There is no rule, therefore, more important in main- 
taining independence of feeling and a nice sense of 
honor, than to live within one's means, so that we may 
have an answer to give to ever y one who says, "pay me 
that thou owest." I have known many young persons, 
whose prospects in life have been ruined by neglect of 
this rule. Debts, thoughtlessly incurred, give food for 
anxious thought afterward, and it is astonishing how 
great an effect upon the whole character is produced. 
The young man suffering under this sort of anxiety, 
eager for an increase of income, discontented with what 
he now receives, uneasy lest his embarrassment may be 
known, fearful of being dunned, is in no sfate of mind 
for self-improvement. When alone, he is too kervous 
to reaJ, when in company too restless for its enjoyment. 
The tone of his mind becomes unhealthy and his mode 
of life careless. On the other hand, the feeling that he 
does not depend upon the f aver of any one, that he is 
always in a position to change his place, if unjustly 
treated, and that he is not obliged to seek any man's 
favor by unworthy stooping, produces a feeling of self- 
respect, which will save him from a great deal of folly. 

Another safeguard of virtue is found in good books. 
By surrounding ourselves with them, and making our- 
selves familiar with them as with beloved companions, 
we take an effectual means cf self -improvement ; we 
place ourselves beyond the reach of many temptations 5 
we secure a fund of enjoyment, rich and unfailing. It 
is a source of delight, of rational happiness, which 
can never be exhausted, but still becomes greater, and 
is prized more and more to the end of life. He who 



96 THE WATS OF WISDOM. 

loves reading, and has books within his reach, is an 
independent man, be he rich or poor. Every volume 
he opens is a cordial friend, whose hand he grasps and 
whose countenance towards him does not change. 

W e lose ourselves from the vexations of life, we re- 
tire from its cares, we forget its disappointments ; even 
its bereavements are softened to our hearts, when we 
thus ponier the wisdom of the dead, or receive the 
quickening thoughts of the living. How sacred, how 
blessed, is that intercourse ! how ennobling the com- 
panionship, when we stand with Milton, and Socrates, 
and Shakspeare, and Homer, and Addison, and John- 
son, and Schiller, and Goethe, and all the worthier of 
every land and every age, from Moses, the great law- 
giver, and David, the greatest poet, to our own Web- 
ster and Bryant. When they are all around us, with 
all their best thoughts, their sagest instruction ; with 
the gay sparkling of fancy, and wit provoking laugh- 
ter until it comes with tears ; or with images of sorrow 
and pathetic tenderness, which make our hearts almost 
bleed, yet with not an unpleasing sadness; in such 
companionship, though alone* how glorious society we 
enjoy. Who could ask any thing of the world when 
the treasure of such riches isjiis own ? 

Who can enjoy the society of the vulgar, or enter 
upon scenes of dissipation, when he has learned to en- 
joy pleasures so refined, in company so select and beau- 
tiful? 

The love which the scholar feels for his books, none 
but a scholar can understand ; but every one who dili- 
gently seeks for self-improvement, must learn some- 
thing of it from his own experience, or his progress 
will be slow. The taste for reading is one of the surest 



THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 97 

marks of an improving mind and a virtuous character. 
But it will not come of itself. At first it must be cul- 
tivated with diligence, as we would perform any other 
duty. Other engagements will seem more attractive, 
and we shall sometimes take up our books with a feel- 
ing of weariness, as an irksome task; but the habit will 
soon be formed. As the mind gains knowledge, we 
shall love the sources from which knowledge ccmes. 

We need offer no argument to show that to the indi- 
vidual the habit is invaluable; to be a reading man is, 
generally speaking, to be a moral man and a useful 
citizen. To a community it is equally important; for 
to be an enlightened community and a reading com- 
munity, are but two expressions for the same thing. I 
would not lay so much stress upon this point, having 
already spoken of it once before in these lectures, but 
because I think that this is the respect in which, as a 
community, w? are most deficient. Our ycung men 
need to have their attention turned away from mere 
amusement, to the higher pleasure which reading af- 
fords. They need more of that education and refine- 
ment, which books alone can give. No other human 
influence can do more than this to check the growth of 
intemperance and to elevate the moral standing of this 
city. If I had it in my power to close every bar-room 
and place of wickedness, and to prohibit the sale of in- 
toxicating drink by law, I should probably exercise the 
power with great gladness; but not one-half the good 
would be thereby accomplished, nor would it be half 
so well done, as by giving to all our young men so great 
a taste for reading, that they would lose the taste for 
dissipation. If we could thu3 take away the occu- 



3* 



98 THE WATS OF WISDOM. 

pants or our splendid saloons, their splendor would 
soon fade away. 

Ifc is for this reason that we look with so great pride 
upon the growth of an Institution whose express object 
is to cultivate the taste for reading among us, and to 
provide means for its exercise. I refer to the Mercan- 
tile Library Association. It is a good beginning and 
promises well for the future. We would place it next 
to the institutions of religion itself, as a means of pro- 
moting virtue and discouraging vice. We mention it 
in this connection for another reason also ; because it is 
not only intended chiefly for the benefit of our young 
men, but beeauee it is chiefly the work of our young 
men themselves. It is true, indeed, that they have recei- 
ved from the older part of the community, efficient and 
indispensable aid-; but the laboring oar has been in the 
hands of young men themselves, or of those who are but 
just passing into the years of middle life. More than 
half of its annual subscribers are young men, wiio are 
not themselves yet established in business. Its grow- 
ing favor in this community is, therefore, one of the 
best evidences of improvement. Its library, although 
not large, is well selected, and being easily accessible 
to young men, offers to them means of self -improvement 
and rational enjoyment, which no young man is wise 
to neglect. We hope that the spacious rooms which 
will'Soon be ready for its use will not be too large for 
the accommodation of those who desire to avail them- 
selves of its privileges. 

'Will you also indulge me if I take this opportunity 
of paying a tribute to the memory of one of whoso 
death, in a distant land, we have recently heard. Al- 
though a young man, he was among the early friends 



THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 99 

of the institution just now named, and, at the time of 
his leaving this city, one of its directors. Himself a 
beginner in life, he gave what is often better than 
money, his time and personal attention to its interests. 
I refer to Theodore Clark;. From his boyhood I knew 
him well, and watched over him in his youth and early 
manhood, not only as his pastor, but as his friend, His 
death is to me a personal grief, and to this church, of 
which he was a valued member, an irreparable loss. 
Although he had removed for the time to a distant 
home, his place here did riot seem to be vacant, until 
now. The tears which fall to his memory are these of 
sincere sorrow, and the tribute of respect now paid is 
also the tribute of affection. 

How mysterious are those dispensations of Provi- 
dence, by which the young and useful are taken away 
in the beginning of their career ! But the dealings of 
God are not measured by the wisdom of men. Death 
knows no distinction either of age or place. However 
young and strong, the warning is equally to us all. 
Be ye ready also, for in a day and hour when ye think 
not, the Lord cometh. Are we ready now? If death 
were to call us hence, to-day or to-morrow, could we 
obey the summons without fear? He who lives as he 
ought, is always prepared to die. "Rejoice, young 
man in thy youth," saith the scripture, "and let thy 
heart cheer thee, in the days of thy youth; but know 
thou, that for all these things, God shall bring thee into 
judgment." Therefore, *' fear God and keep his com- 
mandments, for this is the whole duty of man." 



LECTURE VI. 



EeUgton. 



I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that 
ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, 
which is your reasonable service.— Romaas xii : 1. 

My previous lectures have been chiefly upon moral 
subjects. We have considered the duties devolving up- 
on us, in the ordinary relations of life, with reference 
to our usefulness and happiness in this world. The 
motives by which the necessity of a good life has be«n 
urged, have been drawn, in part, from those considera- 
tions of propriety, of self-respect, and even of worldly 
success, which belong to this life alone, and aro, in 
themselves, considered motives of expediency, as much 
as of right. I hare, indeed, endeavored to preserve an 
under-current of religious feeling, and thereby impart 
seriousness and solemnity to our thoughts. My own 
mind has never been drawn, even for a moment, from 
the responsibility under which we stand to God. The 
truth that the present life is also a preparation for the 
future, has been continually present to me. Even in 
those remarks which may have seemed most exclusively 
prudential and worldly, I have desired to make all res* 1 
on this foundation. 



102 RELIGION, 



If the present life were all of which we have prom- 
ise, there are, perhaps, sufficient motives to keep a sen- 
sible man from the dissipations and wickedness of the 
world, and to induce him to spend his time in a course 
of sobriety and usefulness ; but it is only when we think 
of the present life, as the childhood of the soul, and 
that the character which the soul forms for itself here, 
must go with it to the threshold of Eternity, that we 
can discern the infinite importance of goodness, and 
the fearf ulness of that wrong, which we do to our own 
souls through sin. As we say to the child, to be dili- 
gent in his school-days, because upon this his character 
as a man will depend, so do we say of the present life, 
that we should spend it well, because we are now edu- 
cating ourselves for good or evil in the world to come. 
Is it not a thought to startle us from indifference? 
Does it not confer sacred&ess upon the common duties 
of life, and the brand of deeper infamy upon its sins ? 
If it were only the respectability and the comfort, the 
rational enjoyment and usefulness of a life which must 
end in fifty or sixty years, we might almost escuse 
ourselves in sin, by saying that after all it is 
a matter of small importance, and will soon be over ; 
but when we think of it all, as only the beginning 
now, the dread consequences of which will be developed 
in the unknown but never ending future, our hearts 
are sobered from their folly, our consciences are wak- 
ened from their sleep. 

I would not urge upon you the fear of hell, as the 
leading motive to a good life, for I find no authority in 
Scripture, in the preaching of Christ or his apostles, for 
so doing ; although they did not conceal the " terrors 
of the Lord," they used them " for the persuasion of 



RELIGION. 103 

men." They spoke plainly of the terrible consequencees 
of sin, both here and hereafter ; but it was chiefly by 
the beauty of goodness and by the love of God, that 
they made their appeal. u I beseech you, therefore, by 
the mercies of God," said the apostle, u to present your 
bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which 
is your reasonable service." The true Christian preach- 
ing calls attention to the dreadful consequences of sin, 
only so far as to make the pursuit of virtue the reason- 
able service of God. Nothing, I suppose, has contribu- 
ted more to bring religion into contempt, than the 
manner in which the fear of hell has been made ''the 
hangman's whip, to keep the world in order." It is 
sometimes used as a motive, not less mercenary than 
the most common rewards of virtue in the present life. 
"We may learn to think of Heaven and hell, as the pay- 
ment for so much virtue, or the punishment for so 
much sin, just as we think of money received in pay- 
ment for work done, or of the jail as the penalty of 
crime. It is better to conduct ourselves well, even from 
such motives as these, than not at all ; but the motives 
are certainly of a low kind, and not well calculated to 
develop a high order of virtue. 

If we can love God, only so long as the fear of his 
anger is before us, our case is, at the best, but a bad 
one. If sin is hateful to us, only because its outward 
punishment, either hero or hereafter, is terrible, our 
hearts may in fact be loving the sin itself and yearn- 
ing for its commission all the time. We must rise to a 
much higher state of feeling than this, before we are 
properly evangelical or gospel Christians. We must 
learn to feel that virtue is its own exceeding great 
reward, and that we are paid, over and over again, for 



104 RELIGION. 



all our exertions to do right, for all acts of self-denial, 
for all perseverance in well-doing, by the character 
which we are thus giving to our own souls, by the com- 
munion which we are thus holding with the pure and 
good, and above all with God himself. We should 
feel, that in the commission of a base action, or 
the indulgence of bad passions, the baseness and de- 
gradation are themselves the greatest punishment. The 
hope of Heaven then beoomes a right and worthy mo- 
tive, because its reward is in the continuance and per- 
fect completion, through eternity, of that serene delight 
which begins here. The fear of future retribution 
then becomes an availing motive, of which we need not 
be ashamed, because it is chk-fly the continuance of 
that same baseness of character to which sin now de- 
grades us, and by which, as we are separated from God's 
love now, we have reason to fear that we shall be sepa- 
rated from Him more widely hereafter. 

Keligion ought not to be made the calculation of pro- 
fit and loss. As the body hungers for its daily food, 
because needful for its maintenance, so should the soul 
hunger and thirst after righteousness, because neces- 
sary for its full development, for its healthy action, 
for the maintenance of its real life. As spiritual be- 
ings, we live just in proportion to our degree of good- 
ness. When we commit sin, the soul languishes. If it 
were possible to be completely buried in sin, the soul 
would die. It finds no elements of life in wickedness, 
but all its faculties are cramped, its beauty lost, its ca- 
pacity of improvement impaired. Compare the soul of 
one whose life has been consecrated to goodness and 
truth, to that of one whose whole life has been wasted 
in self-indulgence or given to the pursuits of sin. When 



RELIGION. 105 



they are both called to the judgment seat of Chri.?t, 
how differently do they appear ! I do not now say, 
how different must be the judgment pronounced on 
them, but how different they are in themselves. You 
would hardly suppose them to be of the same family or 
kindred. They seem to be of a different nature. Equal- 
ly different therefore must be their destination. The 
sentence is in themselves already, "depart from me, ye 
cursed," or "como unto me, ye blessed of my Father." 

Nothing, however, can be more absurd than to think 
of the Heavenly life as being, in a meritorious sense, 
the reward of a good life on earth. The Saviour taught 
that "when we have done all we are unprofitable ser- 
vants, doing only what it is our duty to do." That is 
to say, God may properly claim our best service, and 
therefore we can do nothing to establish a claim upon 
him in return. We should not speak of future salva- 
tion, as if it were a debt due from God to us, to be 
claimed, just as the laboTer claims payment for the 
work he has done. It is as though you were to confer 
benefits, day after day, and year after year, upon some 
one who has no claim upon you, and he should demand 
the continuance of such benefits as a right. Even if 
our whole duty were performed, the hope of eternal 
life must be founded upon the continuance of the Di- 
vine goodness, the faithfulness of the Divine promise ; 
but when we confess, as we must, that instead of our 
whole deity, not one half has been done, the absurdity 
of making that imperfect performance a claim to in- 
finite reward, is sufficiently evident. To escape punish- 
ment for what remains undone or for what has been 
done badly, is in itself a great deliverance. Our rela- 
tion towards God is that of sinners, who ask forgiveness, 



106 RELIGION. 



of penitents seeking for pardon. When, therefore, in 
addition to the forgiveness asked, a life of joy is prom- 
ised, a life of communion with the just made perfect, 
with the holy Jesus, and with the infinite God himself, 
our hearts overflow with gratitude, and all thoughts of 
our own merit are forever put away. 

We know that repentance and a renewed life are 
made a condition, and they are an indispensable con- 
dition of future happiness. I do not know of any part 
of Scripture which encourages us to hope for salvation 
upon any other terms. But the condition on which a 
benefit is conferred, is very different from its procuring 
cause. You may promise to a poor man that if he will 
come to your house, you will relieve his wants; his com- 
ing is therefore a condition, upon the fulfilment of 
which your assistance will be given ; but who would 
pretend that it is in any proper sense meritorious ? 

The gift would come from your liberality, as much 
as if no condition had been annexed. Or, if you were 
to receive a young person as a scholar, with the prom- 
ise that if he uses his advantages well up to a cer- 
tain point, so as to prepare himself for greater, they 
shall be given to him ; in one sense this would appear 
as a reward, but the obligation resting upon you would 
come only from your own promise, and not at all on the 
ground of his merit. Your promise itself was given 
gratuitously, and its fulfillment is only the completion 
of a kindness begun. 

So far as the idea of reward is contained in the prom- 
ise of future bliss, it is contained in the illustration 
now given. We are placed here, the children of God, 
surrounded by blessings, with abundant opportunities 
of improvement, the tokens of God's love everywhere 



RELIGION. 107 



present, and with the promise, that if we use these 
present blessings for our own education in goodness and 
truth, so as to be capable of receiving greater blessings 
hereafter, they shall be given to us. Use the earth 
well and Ileaven shall be yours. Educate yourselves 
for the higher life and you shall enter upon it. Follow 
God's present guidance and he will lead you from glory 
to glory, from one height of excellence and enjoyment 
to another^ through the ages of eternity . If we call 
the fulfillment of these gracious promises the reward of 
a Christian life, it is not in the strict sense of reward, 
as a debt from him who gives it, which we can claim 
on the score of merit, but only on the faithfulness of 
him by whom the promise is made. It is better to say 
that the regenerate life here is the condition on which 
salvation is freely offered through Jesus Christ. 

And why is it made a condition ? Not because God 
gains anything by its fulfillment; he requires nothing 
of us, as though he needed it, *< seeing that in Him we 
live and move and have our being." Our best holiness 
is but the working of His spirit in our hearts, and the 
part which we do is to submit ourselves to the heavenly 
guidance. It is made the condition, so far as we can 
understand tho subject, just as each step in knowledge 
is the condition of further progress. It is imposed upon 
us, not by an arbitrary decree, but by the law under 
which we live. " To him that hath shall be given," 
is the law of spiritual progress. Nothing can be given 
to those who have not the capacity to receive it. I be- 
lieve that God always confers upon us the greatest 
amount of spiritual blessings that we are capable to 
receive. By using the present gift the capacity enlarg- 
es, and the human soul, through the continuance of 



108 RELIGION. 



God's grace, expands to an angel's form. This is eter- 
nal life, of which we must have the earnest here, if we 
would enter upon that greater promise hereafter. 

In the same manner, a wrong idea is often enter- 
tained of the punishment threatened ; as though our 
gins were a wrong done to God, an injury inflicted upon 
Him, for which he will take vengeance. But the Scrip- 
tures say, " he that committeth sin wrongeth his own 
soul." How can the finite injure the infinite ! How 
can the creature inflict a wrong upon the Creator, who 
sustains him in life and gives him the power by which 
the wrong is done. How can we think of God, as 
thirsting for vengeance against those, whom by a breath 
he could sweep away forever ? That contest would be 
too unequal. It is true that the Scripture uses language, 
a literal interpretation of which would convey this idea 
of punishment, but a moment's thought shows its true 
meaning. The explanation of all God's dealing with 
us, however severe it may be, and of all the threaten- 
ings contained in His word, is found in the two-fold 
character of God"; first, as our Heavenly Father, and se- 
condly, as a Being infinitely wise and holy. 

As a Father, He directs all things for our good, but 
leaving to us freedom to obey or disobey Him, to use the 
means of grace or to neglect them, we are of course sub- 
ject to sin and the ruin it produces. As a Being infi- 
nitely wise and holy, our departure from sin and re- 
turn to goodness is absolutely indispensable to his favor; 
it is equally indispensable to our own real happiness.— 
Whatever degree of suffering, therefore, may be neces- 
sary under God's parental discipline, however terrible 
it may seem, and however terrible it may be, is the in- 
evitable consequence. The moral government of God 



RELIGION. 109 



in which holiness is made the absolute law, must be 
maintained. The " terrors of the Lord," therefore suf- 
ficiently appear. But there is nothing in the infliction 
of his severest sentences, like human vengeance, or the 
expression of anger as a personal feeling. We do not 
pretend to interpret all the principles of the Divine 
Government, as though we sat upon the judgment seat, 
but the general principles now laid down may be asser- 
ted, we think, with the utmost confidence. It is a view 
of religion at the same time the most cheering and most 
alarming we can take. It delivers us from superstitious 
fears, from slavish trembling before God, while it re- 
veals to us the absolute necessity of a_good and holy 
life. There is no escape from it. It is required not on- 
ly by the commands of God, but by the nature of God 
itself. It is required also by our own nature, which is, 
in this respect, created after the image of God. 
' It thus appears, in what manner the Christian life 
is the condition of salvation, not as a procuring cause, 
but as the indispensable preparation. But the ques- 
tion now arises, in what does that preparation consist ? 
What do we mean by a Christian life as a condi- 
tion of acceptance? This is an important question, 
and upon its answer our views of practical re- 
ligion will chiefly depend. The same question 
was proposed by a prophet in olden time, and his 
answer will guide us to the truth. ''What is it, man, 
that the Lord thy God requireth of thee, but this, to 
do justly, love mere)', and to walk humbly with thy 
God." It consists, therefore, of two parts; the faith- 
ful and kind performance of our duties to each other, 
and the spirit of devotion towards God. Both parts 
are equally important, and neither is perfect without 



110 RELIGION. 



the other. The same answer is given by Christ himself, 
although in different words, when he says that there 
are hut two essential commandments, of which the 
first is "to love the Lord our God with all the heart," 
and the second "to love our neighbor as we love our- 
selves." 

There is a great difference between morality and re- 
ligion. 'We may eay, indeed, that morality cannot be 
perfect, without religious principle for its foundation; 
and as a matter of fact this is true . Worldly princi- 
ples are not enough to make a man truly good. But 
in idea, we may consider morality quite abstractly 
from religion, and in practical life we find many in- 
stances of those who are called moral men, a; 
are so in all the common relations of life, bu 
whose hearts the influence of religion has not ye 
shed. Worldly and selfish motives are enough 1 
form our characters to a high standard of respectabili- 
ty, and our natural affections, if well directed in early 
life, will lead to the practice of those virtues, upon 
which the comfort of our families and the peace of 
society depend. Sometimes a degree of excellence is 
thus attained deserving of great respect. We do not 
undervalue it. Such obedience is very often, as it is 
said of the law, "the schoolmaster which brings us to 
Christ;" but it is evident, even to superficial thought, 
that however correct the outward conduct may be, its 
real character depends upon the motive by which it is 
actuated. You may describe a man who, to human obser- 
vation, wrongs no person, but fulfils all his duties with 
scrupulous exactness, of whom you may yet say that 
God is not in all his thoughts. You may imagine such 
an one, we do not say that you will find him in actual 



RELIGION. Ill 



life, butj T 0u may imagine him to be impelled in all that 
he does by motives of self-interest. It may all be no- 
thing bat a refined calculation of profit and loss. It 
may be all in the service of the world and from the fear 
of man. Now, however estimable this exterior may 
be, and however valuable in the common relations of 
life, we cannot help admitting that the soul, when actu- 
ated by no higher motives than these, is very far from 
its own highest advancement. Change its ruling prin- 
ciple ; let the supremo love of goodness take possession 
of it, for goodness' sake ; infuse into it the martyr's 
spirit of self-sacrifice ; let self-consecration take the 
of self-love; let God become the object of su- 
worship, instead of the world, and how complete 
%q in the spiritual nature is produced. It is as 
.te regeneration as the change from vice to vir- 
tue ; as complete, we say, and as real, although not as 
open to outward observation. 

Such is an extreme case, but it serves to show the es- 
sential difference between morality and religion. The 
common experience of life shows it equally well, and 
in a more practical manner. As the world goes, moral 
men are very frequently not religious men ; and what 
is still more unfortunate, those who claim to be reli- 
gious are not always moral. This is a manifest and 
gross inconsistency, and proves that their religion itself 
is either shallow or hypocritical ; but instances of it 
are 1 not uncommon. Men who have their seasons of 
fervent prayer, who are carried even beyond the bound 
of reason by religious zeal, who make many profess 
ions, and that too, not without sincerity, are yet some- 
times known as men not to be trusted, who will be guilty 
of over-reaching, falsehood and other offences, which 



112 RELIGION. 



the common morality of life rebukes. The religion of 
such persons is not always hypocritical, but more fre- 
quently shallow. It is founded upon wrong principles. 
It is the result of wrong education. It comes from the 
idea that the worship of God is something external, 
which he requires for his own sake, instead of that 
" reasonable service," which consists in presenting the 
body a living sacrifice to him. When we learn that 
" they who worship God, must worship him in spirit and 
in truth/' and that no worship can be acceptable 
to him which comes from an impure or bigoted heart, 
or which is accompanied by an impure or dishonest life, 
then the religion which tries to dispense with morality, 
and the faith which tries to do without works, will be 
abandoned. Eeligion, if rightly considered, is the 
spirit in which we live. When we have the spirit of 
Christ, we have the Christian religion. In proportion 
as we obtain it we are Christians. It must penetrate and 
gradually purify our whole nature. It must govern us 
in all the departments of life. It begins with that fear 
of God which is the fear to commit sin, and is perfected 
in t.h at love of God which leads to the love of goodness. 
It infuses into all our actions a Heavenly purpose, and 
gives to all our steps a heaven-ward direction. It 
gradually becomes the ruling motive and gives a new 
character, almost a higher nature, to the soul. We do 
not say that this is at once accomplished, but it is the 
work proposed. It is the tendency which Kel igion gives 
to the soul, conforming it to that which is Heavenly rais- 
ing it above that which is earthly, taking away the 
selfish life and bringing the life of God into the soul of 
man. It holds before us the perfect example of Jesus 
Christ, the Son of God, and teaching us that we also are 



RELIGION. 113 



the children of God, encourages us to press forward to- 
wards the mark of our high calling. It commands us 
to become like Jesus, and in that one word includes tho 
highest self-devotion to God, and the most careful per- 
formance of all the duties of life. 

What I would chiefly urge upon you now is the ne- 
cessity of religion, as a pervading influence of life, to 
every one of us, especially to those who are young. If 
there are any whose passions are already subdued under 
other discipline, they will still need its comforting and 
purifying presence; but the young cannot dispense with 
it, without the greatest risk even to their common mo- 
rality. Religion is needed by them in the development 
i r faculties, in the education of their minds, in 
r ernnicnt of life. It is the balance wheel, to im- 
•teady and regular action to those impulses, 
whiuu will otherwise have unequal and destructive pow- 
er. It is needed to give them consistency of character 
to remove them from that strong influence of example 
which is the ruin of so many, to give them the power 
of saying no, when they are tempted. Religion is the 
highest and strongest principle of self-guidance. It 
enables one to stand alone if in a right position; to re- 
fuse following the multitude in doing evil. I appeal 
to young men if they do not need such an influence. 
Do you not often feel your resolutions giving way, be- 
cause they have no higher support than your own will ? 
Would it not often be a relief to you when tempted, to 
think, I cannot do this because my religion forbids me? 
If that silent appeal were open to you, would it not en- 
able you to escape from many of the false judgments 
of the world ? 

I know that young pergons are not apt to take this 



4* 



114 RELIGION. 



view of the subject. They are more apt to think that 
religion is intended as a consolation to those who are in 
trouble; as a refuge to the alarmed and repenting sin- 
ner; as a staff to support the declining years of the 
aged; as the promise which allays the fears of the dy- 
ing. It is indeed all this, but it is also something more. 
It is the purifying influence of life, needed by the 
young, not less than by the old; by the prosperous, not 
less than by the unfortunate. It is as important to us 
in the fulness of strength as upon the dying bed. 

There are some who think that they may spend the 
whole of life as they please, in frivolous worldliness or 
heartless sin; and that at the close of life, or even upon 
the death-bed, they can make it all right between them- 
selves and God, by a few earnest prayers and by cast- 
ing themselves upon the merits of Jesus Christ. How 
uncertain is such a reliance, even at the best ! How 
can we tell that death may not b^ so sudden as to give 
not a day or an hour for preparation ? How little op- 
portunity of thought do the days of sickness afford, 
when the body is tortured by pain, and the mind dis- 
turbed from its healthy action, and the anxious faces 
of friends fill us with anxiety, and our own hearts are 
trembling because we are not ready to die. But still 
more, what right have we to expect that God will hear 
that last despairing cry, of those who through their 
whole lives have refused to call upon Him ? We would 
not extinguish that hope when there is no other; but 
neither Scripture nor reason justifies us in making it 
our chief reliance. It is a living sacrifice, which God 
demands, not a dying sacrifice. Under the Jewish 
law, he who brought a diseased or imperfect offering to 
the altar, from his herds or flocks, was rebuked and re- 



RELIGION. 115 



jected. The offering was required to be without spot 
or stain. Under the Christian dispensation, shall we 
do less honer to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus 
Christ ? Shall we give the vigor of our days to world- 
ly and selfish pursuits, and at last come with reluctant 
steps, with the poor wreck of a decaying body, and of- 
fer that to God for his acceptance? There is a mean- 
ness in it, a baseness of calculation, from which our 
hearts revolt. To make Him who ought to be 
the first and highest in our thoughts, the last resort of 
&ur feebleness, is little short of blasphemy. To ac 
knowledge, as we do, that Christ died to redeem us 
from sin and death, but deliberately to put him away 
from our thoughts and refuse obedience to his com- 
mands, until all cur worldly purposes have been accom- 
plished, and all our sinful appetites indulged, and then 
turn to him, saying : "> now we will accept thy salva- 
tion ; now we will rely upon thy merits;" — does 
not such a hope, even when it comes, border upon des- 
pair ? What then shall we say of those who hold it 
before them as their plan of life, and who devote their 
days to sin, with such an expectation of final escupe. 

There are some who neglect religion in their youth, 
because they think that by and bye it will be easier to 
become religious. They flatter themselves that youth- 
ful folly will die out, of itself; that the strength of 
their passions will become less, and the work of self- 
government easier ; that the temptations of life will 
not be so m^ny, nor so hard to resist; that as they 
grow older, religious thought will become more natural 
to them, and worldliness less attractive. They hope, 
therefore, to grow into religion by the natural progress 
of life. In other words, starting in a wrong direction, 



116 RELIGION. 



and traveling as fast as they well can, they expect to 
arrive at the right conclusion of their jouraey. The 
whole experience of life shows their folly. When did 
you ever know bad passions to become less by indul- 
gence? When did wrong habits ever correct themselves, 
or become easier of correction by continuance ? You 
cay that it is hard for you to be religious now ; I grant 
it. It will require your best exertions and the assist- 
ance of God's spirit, which he has also promised. Bu& 
it will be harder next year, and every year that you 
live, until it becomes almost impossible. Begin the 
work now, enlist the power of habit on the side of 
virtue, make religion the ruling principle, and you 
will then find that as you grow older the work wi 
come easier. "Walking in a right direction, surnK ~: 
ing one obstacle after another, although you mayt I 
to progress slowly, yet every step is so much gai--- , 
and your whole life will accomplish a great deal. Then, 
at the close of life, you may cast yourself upon the 
mercy of God, of which you will still have enough 
need, with a reasonable hope, yea, with a strong confi- 
dence, that his promisa of salvation through Jesus 
Christ will be fulfilled. 

But there are some, who admit ail I have now said, 
but upon whom it has no practical influence. They 
admit that religion is the strongest influence that can 
be brought to bear upon them. They admit its abso- 
lute necessity; they do not believe in a death-bed re- 
pentance; yet they remain irreligious, and do not even 
put themselves under religious instruction. And this, 
not from a determinate purpose to neglect religion, but 
for reasons which are scarcely reasons at all. Perhaps 
it is only from a habit of procrastination. Some de- 



RELIGION. 117 



cidcd step is needed in the beginning, some change in 
their ordinary mode of life; and as there seems to be 
no necessity for beginning to-day, they wait until to- 
morrow; until gradually the intention itself dies away, 
and the habits of irreligion become confirmed. 

I have also known many persons, who have suffered 
the better part of life to pass without placing them- 
selves under religious influences, because they have not 
quite determined what Church to attend. Their reli- 
gious opinions are not fixed. They visit sometimes one 
place of worship and sometimes another, or in the 
doubt where to go, do not go anywhere ; so that their 
thoughts become scattered, the regularity of habit is 
broken up, their opinions, instead of becoming more 
settled, are more wavering, and the result is complete 
indifference or skepticism. Let me, therefore, in con- 
clusion, say a few words upon this subject. I cannot 
properly now enter upon a discussion of religious doc- 
trines, nor do anything to settle your minds concerning 
them. For I can honestly say, that I have had no sec- 
tarian purpose to accomplish, in these lectures. It is a 
matter of secondary importance to me, whether those 
who have heard them are led to make this their place 
of worship, or some other. If they are awakened to 
the necessity of religion and encouraged in the practice 
of virtue, I shall be abundantly content. But I may 
take the liberty of advising every young man to select 
sdmo place of public worship as his own, and to occu- 
py his seat there as regularly as the Sunday comes. I 
do not mean that he should never go to any Church but 
his own, for it is useful at times to go elsewhere, to 
keep him from becoming narrow-minded and bigoted. 
But he should have his own customary place of worship, 



118 RELIGION. 



where he will attend, unless sufficient reason leads him 
for the time to some other. 

He will soon find his account in this. It is not that 
a single sermon, or many sermons, will do him much 
good. Sermons are very often dull ; the subjects treat- 
ed are often such as do not interest the young, and tha 
hour spent at Church will sometimes be the longest in 
the day. You may think that you would have done bet- 
ter to stay at home and read, and so far as mere instruc- 
tion is concerned this will sometimes be true. But the 
general influence of the House of Prayer is, neverthe- 
less, in the highest degree beneficial. I am disposed to 
think it almost indispensable, as a means of rel:'~~" 
improvement. You will find very few person 
neglect it without injury to themselves. It is i 
much the instruction imparted, although that is i 
thing, but a higher direction is given to the thoughts ; 
the eager pursuit of worldly things is moderated ; our 
sins are rebuked, if not by the sermon, yet by the 
Scripture read and the prayers offered ; we are remind- 
ed of many things which, although we know them well 
enough, we are prone to forget; above all we hear the 
name of Jesus Christ as our Saviour, and of the 
infinite God as our Heavenly Father, and as our 
hearts respond in unison with many others, to 
those blessed words, which are more dear to us 
as they become more familiar — the united influence 
of our own prayers, and of sympathy with those around 
us, and of all the associations of the place, excites 
within us a yearning after goodness, and turns us from 
the love of sin. We go away self-rebuked, yet en- 
couraged for new endeavor. We have found consola- 
tion under sorrow, strength to resist temptation, and 



RELIGION. 119 



pei haps the hope of eternal life. Such is the natural 
and proper influence of the place where prayer is wont 
to be made. We shall not fail to experience it, if we 
are truly engaged in the work of self-improvement, in 
the formation of the Christian character. We do not 
speak of church-going as a meritorious act, in itself 
considered ; but as a judicious act, which, when done 
with a right motive, is almost sure to produce a good 
result. Its neglect leaves the Sunday unoccupied and 
opens the way to many temptations. The religious 
instruction of youth is gradually forgotten. We be- 
come more worldly minded and less devout ; the asso- 
ciations both of the Sunday and of the week-day 
become less favorable to virtue, and at the end of a few 
years, we find abundant reason to lament that we ever 
departed from the habits of our early days. 

If, then, it is wise to attend regularly at some church, 
upon what principles shall we make the selection ? We 
answer, go where you hear the gospel most faithfully 
preached, and where you feel the influence upon your 
own character to be the best. Compare the preaching 
you hear, with the Bible you read. " Judge for your- 
selves what is right," according to this standard, and 
you are not likely to go far wrong. Among all the 
different creeds taught, you may not be able to decide 
which is absolutely correct, and there are many points 
of doctrine concerning which you may always remain 
in doubt ,• but the great principles of Christianity are 
plain enough to all. With regard to its leading doc- 
trines also, you may without much difficulty form an 
opinion. But above all, and what is most important, 
you will have no difficulty in deciding where you are 



120 RELIGION. 



most benefited, and that is your proper place of 
worship. 

j Wherever it may be, may the God of peace go with 
you ! I have sought to do my own duty towards you 
as a minister of Jesus Christ, and if I have spoken too 
plainly, have endeavored to "speak the truth in love." 
I end, therefore, as I began — " beseeching you, by the 
mercies of God, to present your bodies a living sacri- 
fice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable 
service." 



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